Once Again
by Neighpony
Summary: “Wake up you great lump – or die properly, now there’s an idea” “I hope you’re enjoying this Tommie, when I wake up I. will. Piss. On. Your. Corpse. then we’ll see who gets the last laugh shall we?” AU...
1. Chapter 1

Well let's just see how this goes. I've read a heap of similarish AU fictions lately and I wanted to have a go myself so I could make a (hopefully) more original one. Ok, ok I admit I wanted to have my own war-hardened, smart ass, powerful Harry running around in a 'world that could have been' – happy now?! Anyway this is my second fic attempt so please review, tell me if I'm getting any better etc. enjoy!!

**Once Again**

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_**Done**_

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Harry lay on the ground utterly relaxed, quite exhausted, physically speaking and in no small amount of pain with a gaping, fatal wound to his stomach but he _was_ utterly relaxed. The war was over, his part at least, Voldemort lay dead a few feet away from him and 'really' dead, Harry and his friends had destroyed all the horcruxes, well Harry and his friends had started destroying them all, in the end Harry was the only one left to get all of them but he had and with Voldemort dead he felt his job was done. He was comforted as he lay there dieing, he had lost almost everyone he had become close too but the world itself was in decent shape. He knew the ministry could rebuild and Hogsmede would recover, just like the rest of the world – with time, and eventually his accomplishments would be nothing more than a boring Binns-like lecture for students that were more than a little like he used to be. Harry felt it was right for him to die now, maybe he could go to a better place like they used to teach him good children did when he was little.

But alas, life is never simple for Harry James Potter. He looked up from his reclined position when he heard the familiar trills of phoenix song.

"Fawkes?" he muttered in happy disbelief, as the phoenix landed on his chest. Harry patted him fondly, "I thought you'd died with Dumbledore" he said more to himself really. Fawkes was observing his stomach and gaping wound with sadness, "oh please Fawkes no, it's ok, I don't want you to heal me. This is how things were meant to be, they'll be alright without me now. I'm looking forwards to a long rest" he said smiling at the large bird.

Fawkes seemed to look right into his eyes, and as good as Harry had become at occulemency he knew that Fawkes could see his soul and was reading his every desire. Then the phoenix just let out one long melody and Harry was overcome by darkness. Anyone who saw the exchange would have described a blinding flash of light in which the phoenix disappeared and left one happily dead Harry Potter smiling asleep never to awake on the blood soaked grass surrounding Hogwarts castle. Little did they know that Harry was not so much dead as the expression would have it he was simply 'gone from this world'.

_**And it Begins Again**_

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Harry groaned as he slowly came to and realised that his surroundings had changed. He dimly recognised the magical signature of Madam Pomfrey and tried to open his eyes regardless of the blinding white of the hospital wing.

"Here we are again" he sighed smirking, "don't seem to be able to go a full week without seeing your lovely face these days, eh Madam Pomfrey?" he chuckled hoarsly but in good humour. "I'm not taking the full blame for it this time though … stubborn bloody bird" he muttered never noticing the looks Pomfrey was giving him. They ranged from confused to concerned to cautious, the nurse always was very thorough.

Harry was about to continue asking how the rest of their side had gone (the hospital wing seemed far too empty considering a major battle had just taken place) when he felt a familiar magical aura approaching. In a second he was back in 'fight' mode.

"GET DOWN" he yelled at Pomfrey, leaping in one swift movement, out of the hospital bed and onto the floor. "expelliramus" he blasted Snape to the floor before he'd gone two steps into the room. It confused Harry to no end when he realised that Snape hadn't even had his wand out. "You have some nerve coming in here traitor" Harry addressed him darkly, "the only reason your heart still beats is because this is neutral territory. State your business" he concluded with venom to a slightly dazed Snape.

"Who the hell are you?" a recovering Snape asked him incredulously, his eyes throwing daggers at Harry.

"Wrong answer" said Harry winding back to punch him.

"STUPEFY" shout a panicked Madam Pomfrey aiming her wand at Harry.

"POPPY! What the heck!?" asked Harry angrily, brushing off the stunner with practised ease, "I'm not gunna kill him … yet" he shot teasingly at the man on the floor, " I was just-" but Harry never did get to finish that sentence as he noticed some other magical auras were approaching – magical auras that couldn't possibly be approaching. Yet when those auras walked in the door, Harry realised that they belonged to who he thought – impossible or not.

Harry's eyes went as wide as saucers as he stared at those who had just entered the room – Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin currently stood in front of him. His practised blank mask fell to the floor as he stared, slack jawed at the four ghosts before him. None of them moved, they seemed to be worried if they did they might further panic the poor boy who stood there a cross between a deer in the headlights and a gaping fish. Harry reached out and clung onto the bed railing, his legs were threatening to stop holding him up. Suddenly he realised he wasn't getting any oxygen he panicked about this briefly until with a giant gasp of breath he realised that he'd forgotten to keep breathing. 'Always forgetting the simple things' he mentally chided himself before continuing his brains chant of 'it's not possible'. Dully he noticed something had been dropped, then with something resemblant of brain activity he realised it was him – his legs had stopped holding him up after all and he was now sitting on the floor, his eyes having never moved from the closest thing to a father he'd ever known. _Sirius _he thought wistfully.

The expressions of those in the room varied, Snape's features were a cross between confusion and utter rage while most others seemed to be either concerned or politely puzzled or a mixture of both. The increase in oxygen seemed to be helping Harry's mental processes though, the fact of the matter was what he was seeing was not possible, he concluded this must be Voldie's last present for him – a vision from the grave.

"You really are a piece of work, you know that don't you Tommie boy? Half blood, muggle fucking, son of a bitch" he seemed to curse at no one in particular, much to the befuddlement of the others in the room. Their confusion only escalated when the boy on the floor who'd gone from shocked to pissed in a matter of moments purposefully, and quite forcefully smashed his head into the hospital bed he had been sitting next too.

"Wake up you great lump – or die properly, _now there's an idea"_ he muttered sarcastically to himself after the bang to the head didn't bring him immediately awake, "Just wait till I get my bloody hands on you Fawkes! I'll ring your bloody neck – let's see you rise from them ashes to save my sorry ass, you great overgrown magic chicken" He continued to curse vehemently not paying any attention to some of the teacher's snorts of disbelief/humour. "I hope you're enjoying this Tommie, when I wake up I. will. Piss. On. Your. Corpse. then we'll see who gets the last laugh shall we?" Harry prepared to smash his head into the bed again and was slightly surprised when the dream Albus moved it away from him. He spared him a brief glance before attempting to smash his head into thin air – it had hurt the last time so 'obviously' there had to be something there in the real world that he was hitting his head against. The theory was flawless except that it didn't work – there was nothing there.

"Not possible" he whispered disbelievingly to himself. He reached a hand up and felt the bump – it definitely hurt and as he drew his hand away there was even blood. "Not fucking possible" he said a little louder to himself, but the problem with that theory was that it was by all technicalities now impossible that he was dreaming – so where did that leave things.

Well it left him a very realistic Godfather standing in the same room as him and Harry decided to make the best of the situation. God knows how he'd craved for one last chance for a meeting with the man over these last few years. Slowly Harry rose from the floor and moved until he stood not a foot from Sirius. Everyone tensed but Snape was the only one with a wand trained on Harry (he'd picked it up previously) the others seemed too curious to move. Cautiously Harry reached out a hand and touched Sirius' face – 'it was real' – then Harry threw caution, dignity, neutral masks and practicality out the window and latched onto his Godfather, crying his heart out and clinging on like he'd never let go again – he ignored the whispered stupefy and simply let the darkness overcome him but he didn't let go of Sirius, that was all that mattered to him in that moment.

"Did somebody want to get him off me?" a confused and rather uncomfortable Sirius asked the other staff around him.

"I don't know Padfoot, he seems to like you" Remus chuckled at the look on Sirius' face, though truth be told he was still utterly bewildered about the very strange stranger currently attached to his best friend.

"Funny Moony, funny – now get him off" Sirius replied dryly. Though he visibly relaxed when Madam Pomfrey managed to levitate the boy back into bed.

"Did you manage to find out anything about the boy" Poppy questioned the headmaster.

"You mean other than the fact that he's a raving lunatic" Snape added (still livid) before Dumbledore could reply.

"I take it you had some experience with the boy before we arrived" Dumbledore questioned the two curiously.

"You certainly could say that" Madam Pomfrey answered him still incredulous, "it was the strangest thing, I'd come to check on him and some of his injuries had already completely gone – and they should have taken days to heal at best! Though I'm sure he's definitely human." She added hastily, "Then he woke up and started talking to me like he'd known me his entire life though he seemed perfectly sane at the time, quite a lovely boy actually but then he gets this odd look, like he's listening for something, next thing I know he's shouting at me to get down like I need protecting, leaps out of bed and blasts Snape to buggery" Remus couldn't contain a snort at this, when McGonagall shot him a look he explained,

"at least we know why he likes Sirius so much" he answered meekly.

"It was a little stronger then a petty dislike" Snape added darkly, "the boy wanted to kill me, he said himself 'the only reason I had a heartbeat still was because a hospital is neutral territory'. He was about to hit me before Poppy intervened"

"Yes then he was acting shocked like it was odd of me to protect him, kept calling Snape a traitor and I'd shot a stunner at him and he just brushed it off, it didn't even seem like he used a shield! Then just before you lot came in he got that odd look again except this time he seemed confused, then you came in and well you know what happened from there" she finished lamely.

"Does anyone recognise him" McGonagall asked curiously. All replied negatively and she went on, "well he certainly seemed to know us, not that I understand what he was talking about with Fawkes"

"I think perhaps it would be easiest on our guest if we used a truth serum" Dumbledore said addressing Snape who left abruptly to get the potion.

….

When Harry next awoke he had been placed in binds; however it did allow him to speak and move very minimally, he looked around to see that he was back in the hospital bed and surrounded by the same people as before. With his brain and life experiences finally at the forefront of his mind once again he came to the assumption that he had been captured by death eaters – because however much he may have wanted it the dead simply do not come back to life.

"Well this is a new low even for you people – So I killed him, boo hoo. Why don't you all just pack up and go home, might even be able to try getting a life – doesn't that sound exciting Snivellus" Harry continued mockingly.

"Now child we think it will be easiest if you just take this potion – save you thinking about your answers" The Dumbledore look alike addressed him holding a bottle of veriterserum.

"You must be joking – What wand's in the shop?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Are you implying that you'd think we'd use torture to question you?" Dumbledore asked, somewhat concerned.

"oh of course not" said Harry sarcastically, "you death eaters wouldn't hurt a fly"

"I am not a death eater" said Sirius angrily.

"No, you're just some average wizard that likes parading around as my dead godfather, what on earth would lead me to the death eater conclusion."

"Enough of this" said Snape and he angrily poured the potion into Harry's mouth, holding his nose and forcing him to swallow. Harry glared at him but swallowed all the same. It was a few seconds before his eyes glazed over then Dumbledore began his questioning.

"What is your name?"

"harsisss sarraasss hatfsss" Harry answered in parseltongue, smirking at the peeved look on Snape's face.

"He's a parseltongue" exclaimed a shocked Sirius.

"He's a smartass" was Snape's reply to Sirius.

"Yes to all" put in a now lucid Harry, "but you knew all of those things already. You know what they say – ask a stupid question…"

"How did you fight the serum so quickly" asked Lupin quietly. Harry sighed,

"Well I'd be a pretty crap leader if I just went and spilled all the order's secrets every time someone gave me veritaserum now wouldn't I?

"What order would that be" Dumbledore asked in his pleasant, cunning way. Harry just looked at him incredulously.

"That would be the order of the great magic chicken who only visits to get in people's way when they're trying to die quietly then pisses off and lets them be taken by death eaters who play pointless mind games. It's quite popular in the UK" he finished conversationally.

"So you live in the UK", Dumbledore questioned further.

Harry gave him a dead panned glare, pausing before he replied, "Was I not certain that you were incapable of either originality or intelligence, I might be beginning to think you had found a new form of torture –'Death by blatantly obvious questioning'. I suppose-"

"Just answer the damn question you obnoxious little brat" Snape grinded out exasperatedly.

"Oh what's the matter Snivelly?" Harry teased in a babying voice, the familiar nickname sparking curious glances between several of the onlookers. "Am I making you angry? Anytime you wanna go, you just tell me. I've been waiting three years for you to bring your treacherous, whimpering little behind out of hiding for a rematch. Not such a brat anymore am I?" Harry leaned toward Snape as much as his tight binds would allow him to, and whispered viciously, "Sectumsempra is going to seem like a stinging hex with what I've got planned for you. I can turn you inside out…"

"If you think I'm going to fear a blubbering little boy with a big mouth you are more insane than I thought." Snape whispered back, equally vicious. Disconcertingly the boy just smirked, then replied,

"I'm not the 15 year old you left behind. You think I'm gonna explode because you insulted me?" Harry just grinned more evilly, "uh uh."

**AN:** _I just ended it where I was up to. So if you think it ends in a stupid place - i agree with you. If ever i make my lazy self update, the conversation is by no means finished. Do review, please... It might give me incentive to write... That's a big might._

_Katty xx _


	2. Chapter 2

"So you're 18" McGonagall put in, trying to steer the conversation away from imminent destruction. Harry gave her a look that just screamed 'kill me now' before completely rearranging his face into a mask of cheerful eagerness, before saying, his voice full of the utter seriousness that can only come from total sarcasm,

"I'd get you a sticker but" Harry paused and guiltily looked pointedly at the bindings,"can't" he shrugged innocently, "sorry". He chuckled at the look on the ersatz transfiguration professor's face. It was clear she'd joined Snape's camp of 'get rid of it already'. However, this suited Harry just fine. If he could just get the rest of them as pissed there was every possibility they'd kill him before Fawkes could interfere.

"Now Mr?" Dumbledore began placating, leaving the question hanging. Harry didn't even look at the blaringly magenta headmaster replica. He was too busy searching the stark hospital wing for subtle differences. Nit-picking the unobvious was more Hermione's forte, but he figured he should know Hogwarts hospital wing well enough by now, to tell it apart from a fake. While he had been out of the learning enrolment at the school for several years, he always, when possible, used Madam Pomfrey's services over St Mungo's. They tended to ask too many questions there, plus it was a much easier place for death eaters and, occasionally worse, reporters, to gain access to.

Harry could find nothing out of place with the wing. He wondered if perhaps the death eater army had won the war despite the destruction of their leader. That would be a real shit, so he decided to ignore that possibility. However, the thought of Pettigrew, who had still managed to stay alive (mostly because he ran away crying whenever Harry turned up at a fight) being declared the next Dark Lord almost made him laugh, very almost.

Dumbledore, it seemed, was growing impatient with waiting for an answer and gave such an Umbridge-like cough that Harry actually did snort. He was saved from answering or an explanation by the next person that walked in the door however, James Potter, older then Harry had ever seen him but still with enough of a resemblance to his order days pictures that Harry was able to recognise him, waltzed into the room, greeting his two best friends jovially.

"Your presence is totally unnecessary and even more unwanted" Snape spat at the man scathingly, trying to glare his existence to dust. James just smiled cheerfully and was about to say something but was cut off by Harry.

"I like having to agree with Snape about as much as house elves enjoy going on strike, but that is just disgusting" Harry said disapprovingly looking at the man designed to look like his long dead father. James glanced concernedly at his clothes wondering what on earth the boy could be going on about. Harry pointedly didn't look at him and addressed Snape.

"Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore is dead. Bellatrix never concerned you. Yet, here I am, here you are. Someone is in charge of this sick stunt and I know it can't be you", he gestured his head towards the elder Potter, "He holds much more angst for you, than for me." Harry paused and all around the room wild looks passed between faces. His statements puzzled them, panicked them but they all stayed silent as they waited for him to continue, Snape the only one whose gaze had not moved from the boy's face.

"You hated him, I can not believe that you would voluntarily bring him back, and yet, again, yet – here we are, there he is, I don't understand. I admit myself… confused" There was such a Voldemort-like tone to his voice it made Snape twitch involuntarily. "You cannot possibly have yet another master to act for, there is no one left to dominate you, because I assure you I don't want to. So why would you do this?" He gestured to the room at large.

"What is it exactly you seem to think I'm doing" asked Snape calculatingly, his anger seemingly overcome by curiosity. Harry ignored him, he was sick of their games, he ignored them all and stared at the ceiling while they whispered and speculated between themselves. He appeared deep in thought, really he was not thinking at all. He was doing his best to think of absolutely nothing – it was all just too complicated. He was shaken back from his nothingness by a new and reassuringly alive, familiar voice.

"Professor Snape, Sir? Flint would like to know if you managed to book the quidditch pitch for Thursday." Draco spared only a cursory curious glance at the restrained boy in the hospital bed, surrounded by teachers and aurors alike, arching his eyebrow at Snape in a way that boded later questioning. Harry cut over any answer Snape may have given.

"Draco, sweetie don't ignore me. You know how I get when I'm ignored." Harry said in a mockingly sweet and seductive voice. Draco actually took several quick steps further away from the crisp-sheeted hospital bed, his mouth hanging open, too shocked to form a question. Eyes darting between his professor and the boy, hoping the latter wasn't about to pounce.

"It's alright Draco, he's just insane" said Snape in a bored tone, he seemed to think the sentence was reassuring.

"Oh Draco isn't scared of me, are you Drakie?" Harry said, again in the mockingly sweet voice, "He loves it when I make him scream. Come closer Dray, I missed you. What's the matter? Daddy in the room? I won't tell him you cried." Harry finished smirking wildly. It turned into full blown laughter when Snape jumped at his throat, too fast for anyone to stop him.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY GODSON BOY?!" He screamed madly into Harry's laughing face, trying his best to lay hands around Harry's neck while Sirius Black and James Potter did their best to restrain him and pull him away. Harry leaned up into the withdrawing professor's face and whispered so that the whole room could hear.

"I fucked the dirty little death eater senseless" he laughed harder at Snape's redoubled efforts to harm him. While Draco spluttered in the background,

"I never… I don't… he didn't… we… not met… who-"

"Child," Albus began, speaking calmly over everything as if he were simply having a normal conversation, perhaps explaining the technicalities of a difficult charms problem, "You seem rather, disorientated. Are you sure you haven't perhaps confused Draco for another male friend?"

"I'm not a fag, if that's what you're getting at." Stated Harry matter of factly, "Draco was a one off," He paused, seemingly thinking for a moment, then smirked at Snape and continued, "twenty… five- no four and three quarters off, actually. I don't have other male 'friends' though… no actually apart from Draco, (who technically is supposed to kill me, or some such similar thing, so I suppose you really would have to call him a fuck buddy. I mean the polite name is just plain misleading) I don't think I even have any male friends left… pretty sure Neville went down…don't know what with… he might be alive still…" Harry almost seemed to physically shake himself out of his thoughts, "Anyway, point is, I'm not gay, that wouldn't be very appropriate now would it? I've just fucked Draco quite a few times"

"YOU HAVE NOT" shouted Draco indignantly to the room at large, his cheeks coloured a rosy pink. Sirius snorted at the ire of the arrogant little pureblood, but questioned Harry all the same,

"Even if you had, how does that make Draco gay and not you?"

"Sirius that is unnecessary" Dumbledore tried to caution but Harry was already answering.

"And I quote" he said in a monotone voice, something like a newsreader, "Oh Merlin… Oh Merlin… I'm never fucking Nott again, you're so much better" They all looked ready to try and stop him speaking; Draco and Snape looked ready to stop him permanently, so he held up his hand to delay their protests. "You did ask" he said in a friendly manner, before continuing in his monotone, "Potter … you bastard, I haven't bled this much since I was six. That one's probably my favourite quote – it really sums up our relationship best I feel. See Draco's not really _gay _gay either, he's just been ridden so much he doesn't know any better, probably thinks he is a vagina – that's why you should never let death eaters baby-sit I guess." Harry finished cheerfully, as Draco crashed out of the hospital wing doors and Snape stood torn between throttling Harry and going after Draco. The rest of the room remained in utter shock, never having thought such heartache for the arrogant Slytherin boy, not understanding how this stranger knew so much.

"Potter…" James Potter said the name quietly, as if just realising what the boy had said.

"Yeees?" Harry answered questioningly.

"You said he called you Potter" James said, in a tone with the excitement of the solving of a mystery, but at the same time dread, like the mystery was perhaps the location of Pandora's box.

"Well he's not about to start calling me Harry now is he?" Harry answered sarcastically.

"H- Harry, Harry Potter, t- that's your name" James Potter managed to stutter out.

"More or less" said Harry, rolling his eyes at the appalling acting the death eaters displayed at this news. There were plenty of audible gasps but not one of them was confident enough of their acting skills to pretend to faint. Harry wondered if perhaps that legacy had died with Quirrel. That would be unfortunate from a purely theatrical point of view.

"My boy, do you realise the seriousness of your allegation?" Dumbledore questioned sternly.

"Probably not, does it matter?" Harry asked in a bored tone. He was doing his best to play along with the death eaters now, in the hope that that would speed things up and his torture could end just that little bit sooner.

"Would you swear it on a wizard's oath?" Dumbledore questioned further. Harry looked at him and shook his head in exasperation and said,

"I swear on my life and magic, that to the best of my knowledge, my name is Harry James Potter." A gold light shone around him momentarily and then disappeared. "Happy?" he asked Dumbledore childishly.

"Albus it just isn't possible" started Minerva.

"I know" said Harry sympathetically sardonic, "Who would have thought you'd ever actually manage to do your job and capture Harry Potter. Granted, I was unconscious, but don't let that rain on your parade, I'm sure I must have been a handful. Now, you know that spell – starts with A and ends with vada kedavra – yes that one. Well if you point that funny stick you carry around with you at me and say those words - that would make your master really happy."

"I swear on my life and magic that my name is Albus Percivial Brian Wulfric Dumbledore" He said it suddenly, cutting off further monologue from Harry. The gold light shone around him momentarily then disappeared. Nothing happened. Unlike when Harry did it no one else was shocked, they all still remained floored by the previous admission.

Except Harry. Harry was shocked. Harry turned white. Harry was forgetting to breathe all over again...

A/N: Thankyou to my readers, special thanks to SirLady Lupin, theonewiththeloveinherheart and Vellouette, for their reviews.

Also, I can only really forsee one more eventual chapter to this story - to resolve the whole 'how, what's different, etc'. A long time ago when I started this story I'm sure I knew where it was going, I'm sure it was going somewhere... These days however, I just don't know anymore - so I'm open to writing people's suggestions if I really like them (or as per usual my viscious plot bunny attacks them) but other then that, I thinks it's likely to be a rather large oneshot.

Katty xx


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Short update to point out I haven't died - yay!

His mouth tried to form words to the thousands of questions that spilled like a broken dam into his mind but he just couldn't seem to get his throat to make any noise. Once again his eye's locked onto his previously dead Godfather, sure his father was there, but it was different, he knew Sirius… Or maybe he didn't, chiefly this person looked the same, he had a few salt streaks through his hair and some crow's feet that Harry just couldn't place on the man he remembered. The eye's were still Sirius as Harry knew him though, bright and playful… but Sirius didn't look at Harry like he was looking at him now – like there was something he didn't like wrong with him. Harry had only ever seen him look at Snape like that – concern and disgust all rolled into one glance.

He couldn't take that from someone who had always loved him. Questions of 'where' fled from his mind as he tried to make the words come out of his mouth that would make things alright with his Godfather. No sentences would form though and all he managed to whine out was,

"Don't" as he looked pleadingly into Sirius' eyes. Sirius just looked away though, acting like he didn't know Harry, like he didn't want the attention of the crazed, psychotic – stranger, bound up like a tubeworm on the bed. That made Harry angry and it wouldn't have been a full second after he gave his pleading request that his whole demeanour changed.

"Don't you dare look at me like that" he said angrily, drawing Sirius' eyes back to his own. "You have no right to look at me like that when you left! I did the best I could and I won. So don't you dare look at me like that because I didn't do it the way you wanted! You could have stayed! Both of you" he added rounding on the headmaster, "you could have chosen to be ghosts and stayed with me, I needed your help, but you didn't stay to guide me so you sure as hell don't get to judge me now! And that goes for you to" he said as he whipped his head around to look at his father, but he was somewhat cowed by his father's concerned gaze and so he continued in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry… I'm not you and I never will be… but I tried for so long… Is that why mum isn't here, because of Draco? It didn't mean anything I loved Ginny. I'm her son, surely she can't hate me 'cos of one thing? I mean I get why Ginny's not here and I suppose the rest of the Weaslys are probably all mad at me too, but I don't get why Draco would come here and then talk to you." He said casting a scathing glance at Snape, "Actually why would you even be here at all? If you think you can mock me well than you can just kis…" he eyes gave the briefest twitch in Mcgonagal's direction and he spent half a second in very deep confusion before he decided to continue more politely, "…not, because I won! My side won, after you left it you traitorous ba-, person, so lick my hairy ass! Woops, sorry professor." He said glancing guiltily in the feline professor's direction.

By this stage, to say that everyone was confused would have been an understatement. Lupin appeared to be considering stunning Harry so he could have a chance to process all that the boy had just rambled out. McGonagall was inconspicuously trying to view her reflection on the shiny stainless steel bed railing to see if there was anything in particular that had the boy so wary of her and even Snape was so confused he only managed to think half of his lip up into a sneer, which left him looking rather like a sniffing rat.

Finally Sirius managed to cough out, "What?"

"We're dead aren't we?" Harry asked back slowly. Sirius cast a quick look down at himself as did James and they shook their heads slowly in unison. There was a pause as Harry tried to run the list through his head – 'Dead, cross. Deatheaters, cross, People he knew, hopefully cross…Amnesia? That would be a better option to look into if the bloody issue wasn't how they were all breathing in the same air… Inferi? Pretty sure my father's a little too dead for that to be a plausible option… … … … … FAWKES! That malignant fucking pheasant was invited to his KFC dinner party'

"FAWKES!" Harry screamed suddenly into the previously silent hospital wing, causing Dumbledore to pull an odd face and splutter slightly as he accidentally swallowed a large lemon drop and Snape to twitch his other lip corner up into an alarmed!sneer, leaving him to look like a rat in that millisecond when it realised the fishy smell was cat's breath.

"It's no good trying to play dead with me – you're a bloody phoenix! Tell me what you did!" he yelled angrily. There was a flash of fire and suddenly the large ruby firebird was seated on his knee, his eyes glinting haughtily at Harry.

He trilled sharply, as if to say "Well dickhead I've never met in my life, here I am. Do you perhaps speak bird?"

Harry glared at the bird's reception; it would appear he was a stranger to Fawkes as well. Harry breathed in, and then Harry breathed out, just because Fawkes was being a fireturd didn't mean he couldn't still explain this.

A/N: Very short/annoying update I know, but I managed to get half of it out and it started wandering off, and then I didn't know what to write... so I'm STILL eventually hoping to get out an explanation. This was getting just a little too joking for something semi-serious - any opinions on that?

Katty xx


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I just watched House, read some of Marz fanfics and listened to Offspring… peeps, this sarcastic!harry shit be on! ….''shakes head at self''…

* * *

"Nah, bugger it" Harry said thinking out loud with a frustrated growl, "my life is the friggin' twilight zone." He finished as he levitated a pair of scissors to himself from the stainless steel surgical table across the room. Snape jumped to the side and whirled his wand on Harry who let a breath of air escape his lips in a chuckle. 

"Like you've got a pulse to defend" he said rolling his eyes and running the sharp edge of the scissors down his bonds. A casual flick of Sirius' wand pulled the scissors away from their task before they had reached the top of his crotch.

"Delicate" Harry proclaimed in mock annoyance before with a twist of unexpected flexibility he removed the bonds from the rest of his body, dislodging the bird in the process. All of those present in the room moved to train their wands on him in an 'unthreatening' manner… Except Snape of course, who was more then happy to appear quite threatening. The probable factuality of the matter was that he would have liked nothing more then to give the boy a demonstration on the meaning of 'threat'. However, he remained still and sneering and allowed Dumbledore to act.

"Mr Potter, please just calm down and remain seated on the bed" Dumbledore warned in a friendly but commanding manner.

"Nah thanks I'm gonna head home now actually" Harry said, for all the world as if he were declining an invitation to a dinner party. He either didn't notice or didn't care that everyone around him had a wand pointed at his head. "Did anyone happen to pick up my wand?" he asked conversationally, glancing around the room. "Never mind", he said, patting his sleeve and realising it was still where he left it.

"OK well, thanks for… whatever it was you probably had to do. Call me if you work out how to make the bird speak English, I'll even settle for very basic French as long as he has good diction." He said amiably.

"Parseltongue not worthy enough for you coming from a bird is it?" Snape drawled mockingly. Harry was very matter-of-fact in his answering.

"Suffering as I have done under your tutelage for several years, suffice it is to say that I am not in the least surprised you are still yet to grasp the realisation that you need to know something before you attempt to teach it. By all means though, feel free to go ahead and try, doubtless his survival is going to depend on my pity" Harry finished darkly.

"Clearly your narcissistic arrogance has blinded you to the fact that the phoenix is synonymous with immortality." Snape answered in retaliation.

"Yes well still, there aren't a whole lot of things that stay immortal without a head." Answered Harry simply, making to casually walk away from them and out of the hospital wing.

Before Harry even made it two feet, the door seemed to close of its own accord; he sighed in frustration and turned a petulant glare at Dumbledore.

"I'm afraid Mr Potter, that we cannot allow you to leave until we have established whether or not you are a danger." Said Dumbledore with a placating tone.

"Well I am dangerous – there you go, all established, I'll be seeing you around." Harry chirped crossing the room and opening the door as he went, there was only so many times one would allow themselves to be locked in a room by a talkative old man before they learnt a counter-spell.

"But... wait!" the strangled cry of James Potter made even Harry's uncaring form, pause and turn. "I – I'm your father" he managed to splutter out.

"I know" Harry replied casually. "You're supposed to be dead."

"But you, you're –"

"Supposed to be dead too" Harry cut in. "However, you quite clearly are not?" James shook his head in response, "and so you see where the inconsistencies begin. When Fawkes is able to talk, I'm sure it can be explained. Until such a time, I would like to go home and get drunk off my face. Does anyone have a problem with that? Nope, great – toodles!" he finished with cheer bordering death threatening, to the next person that got in between him and strong alcohol.

"Actually" he said, not three steps out the door yet. "I do have one question that will just eat me alive if it's not answered today. What on earth are Draco and Flint doing in school?"

"Learning" Snape deadpanned like Harry was an idiot. Harry just twitched an eyebrow and looked to the rest for a better answer.

"Mr Flint is undertaking a degree in flying techniques and affiliated coaching practises. Mr Malfoy is studying for a degree in magical education." McGonagal answered primly, it wasn't like it was any of the boy's business.

"He's going to be a teacher? Ha! The only good child to Draco is a dead one that can be cut up for scientific research. He wants to be a healer – but anyway not the point, Flint must be like twenty and Draco's eighteen, why are they at school at Hogwarts? Draco should have finished two years ago."

"Only the aligned, the stupid and the suicidal leave Hogwarts after seventh year these days." Said Sirius knowingly, Remus nodding regrettably beside him.

"Surely there's only so many odd jobs around the castle that can give you an excuse to keep eaterlings locked up in the castle?" said Harry with a mocking that wasn't really there.

"Are you sure you didn't knock your head too hard or have you always been this thick?" Snape snarked, "all children endeavour to carry on their higher education at Hogwarts to protect their neutrality in the war."

"If you say so then" replied Harry, still shaking his head in amusement at the idea of Draco wanting to spend time around real, breathing, children. He continued walking away once more.

"Hang on" Sirius shouted to him down the hall, "How are we supposed to find you again?"

"Look for trouble, I'll be the one right in the middle of it, sprawled face down in the dirt" Harry called back before he rounded a corner, leaving the castle.

"Albus do you really think it's wise to let him leave? He didn't exactly seem stable" asked a peeved/worried McGonagall, "Realistically – How **are** we supposed to find him again?"

"The fond thing about fishes Minerva, is once you discover them in a pond, you inevitably will find they cannot be anywhere else" replied Dumbledore in his mysterious, cheerful, infuriating way.

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**A/N: **Was that an update? I do believe it was. Now if you ever want to see another one then review and tell me what you want me to write about.

**Thanks to my reviewers: **Ileranerak, rdg2000, PLEASEUPDATE, Obsessive Child, ReadingRed, kilroy777, PSTurner, Shea Loner and Fraewyn.

Katty xx


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **A bit of a random update... I was trying to start and get serious, cover some ground, you know actually move the plot foward - those weird kind of authory things. The following chapter is what happened instead - apologies if the useless aspect annoys you, but I really don't seem to have a whole lot of control over what comes out when I start typing... begs the question, doesn't it - who/what does then? Oh well, I'll think about that - you enjoy the chapter and keep in mind that reviewing is excellent exercise.

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The sight that greeted Harry as he descended Hogwart's front steps took his breath away. The grass was green and clear, there was no blood, no bodies, no craters. It was weird.

He couldn't resist kneeling in the grass on his way out; he just had to smell it, to dig some of it out, just to make sure there really was no blood hidden there below the surface. If he looked just a bit like a madman on all fours repeatedly rubbing his face on the lush green ground, then that was just coincidence. However, as coincidences go, Hagrid tripping over a randomly placed teen on all fours as he made his way into the castle unseeing with arms full of firewood, that was much higher on the coincidence scale.

There weren't a lot of things that shocked Harry, but a clean field where he just _knew _there had been kiloliters of bloodshed, that was enough to unsettle him into inattentiveness. The foot the size of a coffee table and equally as supple connecting with his underbelly was enough to cause him a shock, and possibly renal failure, but why be pedantic?

There was an "oomph" from both of them as the foot connected, a strangled "fuuuck" from Harry as Hagrid's shin, or possibly a ten ton concrete pillar slammed across his back, getting him a more comprehensive soil sample. Then a muffled "eurgh" from Harry as he came nose to foot with a shoe-clad coffee table.

"What are ya doin' lyin' on the ground ya daft boy" asked Hagrid a little agitated as he picked himself and his burden off of the ground, "are ya right?" he said concerned as he turned to Harry who was trying to dig his way up out of the shallow hole he found himself flattened in.

"Just dandy" replied Harry coming free from the earth with a 'pop' whether from suction or highly compressed vertebrae he couldn't be sure. He was tempted to point out to Hagrid that he hadn't been 'lying' on the ground he had been kneeling, but the reasons for kneeling were much harder to explain, and seeing as it was a rhetorical question anyway, he decided not to go into the schematics of the thing. He thought he should say _something _though before he walked away, but part-way through his words he realised Hagrid didn't know him and he was not going to have _that _conversation again.

"Haaawafluuff" was what came out instead. Harry kept his blank face mask on as he mentally kicked the snot out of himself. His mind taking the hint went for the save with, "I like your grass, good job", Harry allowed himself to blink slowly this time as he kicked his mind a whole lot harder. Still, though he had nothing else to say so he attempted a cheery wave and began walking away.

"Are ya sure you're ok?" Hagrid asked slowly, high concern for his neural functions evident.

"Terrific" Harry replied quickly; glad to know the answer to that question. "Nothing a chiropractor and a whole lot of ethyl can't fix" he muttered under his breath as he once again started on his way out of the grounds. Hagrid let him go; the kid was clearly a bit weird anyway.

Harry decided to just put his head down and get out of the bloody school before something else went wrong. Not that there were any teachers who were likely to be outside his mind pointed out to himself.

"Oh for fuck's sake" he groaned, vowing to do some serious brain cell culling for the mammoth jinx his mind had just put on him. For who should be walking towards him but the teacher he least wanted to see and was also least likely to be outside – Trelawney, and they were fast gaining ground on each other. Fast in the sense that they were like two snails on the same track but neither seemed about to move – horror in slow motion. When they were just a few short meters apart she seemed about to open her mouth for a friendly greeting, but Harry beat her to it.

"Don't you dare say a damn word" at her indignant inhale of air and puffed out cheeks he continued more urgently, "You even open your bloody mouth and I'll blast your head across the indo-pacific so fast you won't have time to think 'grim'." She still seemed prepared to speak but Harry wasn't having a bar of it. As soon as she opened her mouth he covered his ears and started yelling as he continued to walk, "LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU LALA THE ANTS GO MARCHING ONE BY ONE HURAH HURAH LADADIDITIRADIDA DON'T KNOW THE WORDS TO THIS SONG HURAH FAFILUTI NANINA AND THEY ALL WENT MARCHING OVER THE BIG BLUE HILL HURAH OVER THE-" the rest of his song was cut off as he finally stepped out of the Hogwart's gates and apparated away as fast as he could – 'disaster averted' he told himself in relief.

Sybil still stood gaping at where the odd teen had disappeared; finally she managed to shake herself from the stupor and decided she had best tell the headmaster. When she found him he was still in the hospital wing, conferencing with a few aurors, the house heads and some of the other professors, most notably Hagrid who was trying to warn the faculty to be on the lookout for a young dark grass stealer. Although as Hagrid was currently tyring to explain, he wasn't actually 'stealing' the grass, he was trying to examine it, probably to discover the secrets of the castle, and find Hogwart's weakness.

"In the lawn?" Snape questioned sarcastically?

"Well why not?" stated Hagrid determined.

"Because it's bloody grass you incompetent fool" spat Snape, his patience wearing thin.

"What is that supposed to mean Severus?" Professor Sprout cut in dangerously. "You of all people should appreciate the dangers of the plant kingdom. Remember that time the hornsprout got you? As I recall you couldn't sit for a-" Luckily she was cut off by Trelawney who had grown bored with the grass conspiracy and remembered why she came,

"I have just seen a terrible thing" she started dramatically.

"As if she sees anything else" an unimpressed McGonagall muttered under her breath at the same time as Snape, who by now had been driven to pinching the bridge of his nose also muttered,

"Well then change your bloody prescription." Both comments although seemingly unnoticed by Trelawney started a coughing and sneezing epidemic to spread throughout the gathered group so fast it even had Pomfrey worried, and she was one of the ones coughing hardest.

Sirius managed to get his sneezing fit under control long enough to address Trelawney with a most serious sounding question.

"It wasn't the grass was it? That could explain everything" poor Remus coughed so hard at that he could've sworn he'd dislodged a lung. Hagrid however, clearly thought Sirius was on to something.

"That's jus it, init!" He said excitedly "He must be going to try and kill off all the grass!"

"I don't think a little dirt's likely to do too much damage Hagrid" Professor Flitwik tried to placate. Snape assumed Flitwik must have been able to hear his mental wails of agony and was taking pity on his suffering, but Hagrid was not to be deterred.

"Well no, Professor, but it's a lotta grass init, so thas' a lotta dirt…" He looked to Dumbledore for approval.

"Perhaps, it is of course a possibility" Dumbledore stated sagely.

"For Merlin's sake Albus don't pander to him!" cried an exasperated Snape "You know damn well it's ludicrous, stop encouraging moronity!"

"Now Severus I know you've had a stressful day but that's no reason to be rude. Are you feeling quite alright?" Dumbledore questioned kindly. Snape pushed down the overwhelming urge to tunefully yell 'nooooo! Morons, morons everywhere!' as he jumped up and down, stomping his feet. Instead he settled for biting out,

"I'm fine Albus. Sybil you were saying?" He told himself he would just shut up, and quietly ride the rest of this meeting out.

"Yes well I was walking towards the castle" she began slowly, stuffing as much myth and mystery into her words as she could, "and I met the most insane child... he was singing about blue hills... and ants – awful voice. I think-" Snape cut her off, he decided he couldn't take it after all and was going to follow the lunatic's plans – to a degree.

"Well I'm off to drink myself to death" he said conversationally walking from the room. Calls of goodnight followed him, worse still Minerva's ominous promise to see him at breakfast… There had to be something that could save him, he only hoped he could find it before dawn, otherwise there was every possibility he would at last manage to put Gryffindor house into negative points – well there was always at least one redeeming promise for tomorrow – tomorrows were like that.

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**A/N:** Firstly, no I can't write Hagrid's accent. I did unfortunately try though. Secondly, no I don't know the words to that song, but that's what invaded the brainspace and it wasn't to be ignored.

**Thanks to my reviewers last chapter: **Potterworm, Caliko, Sherley Cano, fraewyn, hpfananita and PS Turner.

**Question:** As much as I hate to be spoilerish I can see possibilities for this going either of 2 ways, so does anyone have a preference?

a) Happy Potter's, dark Snape

b)Split Potter's, light Snape

My frank opinion on the matter is that happy everyone is mutually exclusive, realisticly thinking... but meh - forum open!

Katty xx


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** Eurgh! I am not happy with this chapter, It took me forever to write and 'whines' it was haaard! ... I suppose it does what it should though but just not quite how I wanted it too...

Anyway, still - hope you like it...

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A year ago, when Harry had first started looking to buy his house, there had been a few things he had to keep in mind. Firstly it needed to be close to Hogwarts so that he could get there quickly should the need arise, secondly It needed to be far away from people, because Harry had surpassed the definition for 'anti social' some time ago. On the other hand, it needed to remain close to civilisation so that he would be able to hear if the sky started falling.

The end result of this actually had him moving into a heavily warded, 2-bedroom, muggle apartment in the centre of London. Money obviously had never been a problem, and he liked the place, even though it only technically fulfilled one of the requirements – the other ones he made applicable with brute magical force.

So it was to this beautiful bachelor sanctuary, untouched by anyone but him for months, that he apparated after his near death prediction…

"You had better be a welcome home prostitute" He frankly told the 20-something year old woman, who stood in a fluffy pink dressing gown in HIS bachelor pad lounge room. She of course, who had been screaming since about one full second after a complete stranger 'popped' into her parlour, did not concur with his hopeful assumption… In fact she didn't do anything but scream, even when her jock boyfriend walked in, she just looked pointedly at him (still screaming) then swivelled her head back around to lock eyes on Harry, who she pointed at as she screamed even louder, as if it actually made some kind of grammatical sense.

"Look", Harry started, raising his hands apologetically in front of him, "I'm tired and neither of you are my type, so just skedaddle out of my house if you don't mind."

"Arrrghhrr" the burly man released his battle cry as he launched himself across the room at Harry, "Get out of our house you pervert!"

He was brought to an abrupt stop by a flick of Harry's wrist.

"Clearly you've both made a mistake," Harry spoke out slowly, "this is my house." The ape incarnate looked back to his blonde girlfriend, both seemed fairly confused.

"Honey" he began laughing amiably, "I think we've made a mistake, this is his house." She giggled along with him and both prepared to vacate, then Harry added, seeing another pink atrocity in the distance.

"You'd probably better take away all the pink things too."

"Sweetums, let's collect all the pink things first" the 2-limbs, 1-brain short of a golden retriever girl suggested.

"Chop-chop" Harry encouraged as they set to task. Finally, about five minutes later he was able to slam the door behind them, having regained his now, near perfect bachelor house to himself.

"Did you miss me Phineus?" he playfully addressed the stoically frozen, man's portrait that hung over his couch. The portrait remained frozen at first, and then ever so slowly the ice blue eyes moved to point down at him. It wouldn't have been noticeable, except Harry knew it was supposed to move, and was waiting, smirking at it and tapping his foot rather impatiently. The smirk must have jogged Phineus' memory, because as soon as he saw it all muggle painting pretences dropped, his eyes narrowed down at the boy.

"Potter" he spat, looking away from the boy disdainfully.

"Oh Phinny I knew you loved me" cried Harry, springing onto the couch and planting a kiss on the lips of a now spluttering, mussed 16th century man.

"Get away from me you despicable excuse for the human species! I love you about as much as I'd love a pair of hernias. Which is almost as much as I've loved having to live with those two imbeciles for the past Merlin-knows how long. Which I blame entirely on you and that low-life great grandson of mine, putting a wizard portrait – a pureblood no less, in a dirty muggle yard sale. The scruples of the pair of you know no lower boundaries. So no Potter, I don't miss you and I certainly do not love you" he snarked finally.

"Well Phinny that just isn't nice" started Harry, teasingly childish, "I saved you from a fire, you mustn't be looking properly, it's Harry" he concluded commandingly.

"First of all you arrogant whelp, that kind of magic does not work on portraits, and secondly you look nothing like your father. If anything I'd say you've de-aged since our last encounter" Phineus told him superiorly.

"Perhaps you'll recall then that I was the one that set the most Noble House of Black on fire?... because I didn't like one of the portraits?... but I got you out because I thought we were friends?" Harry questioned innocently suggestive, "But I suppose… I mean if you don't remember…" Harry trailed off cheerfully. There was no threat in his voice but it was definitely lurking around somewhere in the room.

"Of course not, Harry my dear boy how have you been?" Phineus jovially addressed him.

"Can't complain Phineus, can't complain" Harry replied conversationally, both fully but deniably playing the game now. "Apparently my father James Potter is also doing quite well." He added.

"Hmm" Phineus stated pensively, polite confusion written on his features, "I seem to be most absentminded today, do remind me – what was your dear mother's name?"

"It seems to be a day for it" answered Harry with false cheer, "Lily Evans was her maiden name and you know I seem to have forgotten where I placed my beer"

"Butterbeer?" questioned Phineus disdainfully, dropping the false act.

"Pfft hardly" said Harry, also dropping his faux manner and falling into the easy friendship he had held with the sarcastic portrait, "you know like the muggle liquor, anything's fine actually"

"Those two usually drank things from that immense, glossy white box in there" Phineus answered, nodding his head towards the kitchen.

"Ah the fridge, of course" Harry berated himself as he crossed into the next room, pulling open the modern appliance, slowly squatting as he searched for his prize. At last on the bottom shelf he found a 6-pack, "Why Johnny I think a walk sounds lovely" he addressed the whiskey cans as he carried them all back to the couch and flopped down bonelessly.

Now Harry had experienced and overcome many addictions in his 18 year life span but alcohol had never been one of them, nor was it going to become one, he was adamant. When Voldemort first started targeting him with visions of raids before Harry had mastered occulemency, he had taken dreamless sleeping potion, approved at first, then he had hidden the fact that he was still taking it, then his friends found out and still he couldn't stop. It had been Hermione that sat up countless nights with him, waiting for insomnia, cravings and withdrawals to stop. Desperately learning occulemency with every ounce of determination they possessed and so one day that addiction was over.

When Mrs Weasley, and with her the last of parent-like affection had fallen, and drowned, screaming in an acid pit – he had run away. He told wizarding Britain to go get fucked and turned into the rebellious teen he thought he had always wanted to be.

It was Hermione who spent months tracking him down, who sat and cried with him, who danced with him because he said he needed it, who reminded him of who he really wanted to be.

She took him away and once again sat through countless hours of withdrawal symptoms, brought on by a wide array of muggle and wizarding party drugs alike. It was Hermione who held him when he was shaking, who always rubbed his back when he threw up and most of all reminded him that he was not alone in his grief and so one day those addictions passed too.

They say though, that the nature of an addiction means that it never truly passes, that the temptation is always there but the will gets stronger… or something like that. Not as far as Harry was concerned, he had regularly been injecting himself with parieus – the essence of pepper up potions, for months, it had not been noticed and it was his final addiction. From the day their situations were reversed and he held a shaking Hermione as she bled out from a horcrux destroying gone wrong – he told himself that he would never have another addiction again, and he had not, because, he told himself, there was no one to help him back anymore and he owed it to Hermione, not to make her worry.

Drinking however, had always been something _he_ was against, well in public anyway. In fact, the few times he had been out with friends it had always been Hermione who was the biggest drinker, but she was a fun drunk, always dancing and giggling. Ron, when he had still been around was a very sullen drunk… he had a tendency to be a very sullen person too, but he was a worse drunk, not that he survived long enough for it to be a problem.

Harry had drunk himself to drunkenness once in public, only to discover he was a very chatty drunk, not to mention completely uncoordinated. When he had woken up the next morning with what looked like it could have been McGonagall's sister, not at all liking what he could remember of his conversations the night before, he decided he wouldn't fancy doing it again.

So he didn't drink in public, and he very rarely drank at all, considering he always needed to be ready for a fight at all times during the war, but when he did drink he liked to completely wipe himself out so much that he had trouble remembering his own name the next day, it was nice to be able to forget for a while. Plus it couldn't be good for his health so he figured it was a nice passive aggressive way to speed things along, mind though, he was a bit of a cockroach and chances were a nuclear explosion couldn't 'speed things along', for him anyway.

Sometime between his deep contemplation and his third and fourth cans, Harry curled in the lounge and fell into a peaceful sleep…

_The sun was a wavering bloody orb low in the sky, sounds from the battlefield still rang out over the land. He had been fighting for ten hours straight, he was exhausted, dirty and covered in blood – and during the guerrilla warfare he had been fighting in the dense Devon forest most of the afternoon, he had spotted a cave, just a few strong enchantments and it would be perfect. _

_He stalked his way through the forest, his muddy complexion and dark clothing blending him perfectly into the dappled leaves and moist ground that barely remained lit. Trained ears picked up the sounds of other soldiers, allies and enemies alike, doing the same. Right now though, Harry was not hunting them, he was just trying to find that cave. Unfortunately for Harry, someone had found the cave before him. _

_Where previously there had been a small clearing, as a brook cut through a circle of willow trees, just to the left of which was a small outcropping boulder, leading into a small cave – that could of course be charmed into quite nice accommodation. Now the whole clearing was dense with growth, a rudimentary but clever defence, because it was not traceable magic. Whereas Harry would have just put up strong wards to keep people out completely, the wards were easily tangible… but it worked for Harry, because he was strong enough to back his wards up, and anyone who felt them knew it. Most people however, made the mistake of using wards, when there were plenty of others who could break them. So Harry figured he would either be spending the night in smart company… or quite possibly dead company, he wasn't fussed. _

_None other then Draco Malfoy sat propped up against the back of the cave, drooling like he was Merlin's-own solution to Britain's water shortage problems. It was obvious from the way he sat, straight-backed against the smooth wall of the cave, head lolled precariously to the side, the cave's entrance in his direct line of vision… He hadn't planned on falling on asleep._

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**AN: **What? What do you call that? What kind of author cuts off midway through a dream sequence?

A review whore!

No she's not! She wouldn't!

She is.

That's right... after all this time of clinging to my superior intellect authoress highground, and getting (I would like to use the phrase bugger-all but nay I do have a few lovely reviewers - kudos to them) not a lot of reviews... I have decided to start dealing in bullshit... no i meant cookies, so everyone that reviews can have an imaginary cookie (or biscuit if you're like me and not at all American) but just the one, because I wouldn't want you to get imaginarily fat... not to say that you are imaginarily fat, but maybe you should make healthier food choices and have and imaginary apple instead...?

Anyway, moving on from the imaginary nutrition epidemic... I figured seeing as this story is now over the 10 000 word mark that I want at least 100 reviews. Because if 100 people write 10 words each then I'll still be really bad at maths, but doesn't that feel more even to everyone?

hmm yes... I must stop updating so late at night... now review! Otherwise I'll have to eat all these imaginary bickies (aka the kid name of biscuits... actually just thinking... is cookie perhaps supposed to be short for something?)

ahhh must shut self up

goodnight

Katty xx


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Phew the next chapter at last... no I didn't wait for 100 reviews but I had a slight plot revelation and so - you get an update!

**Warnings: **The author advises viewers the following chapter has sexual references and advises viewing by mature audiences... plus bad language BUT Harry's NOT gay. I will explain better in the next authors note... now go read the story...

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_Harry tsked silently, a smile crawling its way up his cheeks. He would say it was predatory, the smile of the true hunter he had become, but really, it was mischievous and not that he would ever address the issue in his mind, but he was glad to see Draco, missed one of the most playful parts of his childhood. _

_He moved silently to stand over Draco, held his breath as he slowly eased the wand from his grip, placing it in his own pocket before becoming more risqué and ever-so-carefully easing himself to straddle Draco's lap. The sleeping boy didn't even move, he simply continued to drool on – Harry almost wished he had a camera. _

_He sat there longer, trying to think of the most creative way to wake his old nemesis, finally he settled on blowing up Draco's lolled back nose. For an experienced soldier the word childish crossed his mind a nefariously low/nonexistent amount of times._

_The mischievous grin nearly cracked his face in half as he blew the quick gust of air up Draco's nose, causing the blond to snort and awaken immediately… throwing his head forward in the process, right into the nose of a giggling Harry, thereby leaving a feeling of a metaphoric face quartering. Things went downhill pretty quickly after that._

"_Fucking bastard! Will you lay off my nose?!" A now very disgruntled Harry demanded of the teen beneath him as he pressed a hand to his smarting nose, his eyes streaming. Draco was still having trouble computing – sleep, not sleep, breath funny, wake, bang, ow – person!, alive – ok, trapped – not ok… WAND WAND WAND WAND WAND. _

_There was no longer a wand to be found on his person of course._

_FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT. _

'_Like a muggle' could have been thrown in there… but it was too undignified. Draco meanwhile was making a very 'dignified' attempt to rid himself of the man pinning him down, once he recognised what that man was saying to him – more importantly the fact that it was not some man, but in fact, bloody Potter – all dignity left his mind, because if there was one bastard in the whole wide world Draco Malfoy wanted to lay fists on – it was Harry Potter._

"_Don't fucking bastard me Potter!" Draco yelled, managing to slam a fist into the jaw of a rhinologic-ally distracted Harry, "You're the damn son of a mudblood whor-"_

_THWACK – there was an answering fist on Draco's jaw. _

_And it was on. On like Donkey Kong… _

"_Slut" Draco, compensating and irritated at being interrupted, finished. Both boys continued to grapple, trying to score hits to each other's faces… but seeing as both knew where the other was trying to hit… well both were defending rather well basically. _

_At the same time however, Draco was trying to throw Harry off of his hips, and gain the upper hand, while Harry was trying to force Draco to the ground, so that he could actually manoeuvre some punches. Seeing and all as they had both managed to lock themselves sitting against a stone wall, they were at a bit of a stalemate. _

_Well no, they were grappling like idiots but Harry couldn't move back without unpinning Draco… and Draco simply physically couldn't move back… so logic said they would have to reach a stalemate, or exhaustion… but they seemed prepared for neither. _

_A misdirected punch from Harry caught the collar of Draco's robes, ripping them well off his shoulder. He laughed out loud at the look of infuriation that passed over Draco's face at the destroyed robes. _

_That was when things started to get childish… childisher. _

_Draco pushed at Harry and managed to get a grip on his robes, smirking in a self satisfied way as he heard the tear. It shut Harry's laughter up and they were back to grappling again, they were also back to trading insults. Nonsensical things really – ranging from blood, to friends to basic intelligence. Never mind that both had racked up 3 years out-of-school life experience, they seemed to be going over every insult from their schooling career, without flow, without even real meaning. It all just seemed to work its way into the pent up frustration that the pair of them had always wanted to fight out._

_Course, in all of their fighting ideals they had probably imagined much more wand involvement, more of an audience – public humiliation for the loser (the other) and well… just generally something more becoming, more wizard-like…. even just less retarded would be a start. _

_Alas, fate had decided they were to fight like talking tulips, banging heads and trading insults. A truly ludicrous imagery, just like the pair of them._

_Harry eventually proved the darker wizard though, "At least Voldemort only killed my mother; she never had to 'kneel' for the dirty bastard. Doesn't it bother you that you still serve the monster that fucked your mother to death?" _

_Draco, momentarily, proved the stronger but the vicious strike across his face and the shove that sent him sprawling back on the floor barely compared with his own shock. He hadn't meant to say it, he knew no body else knew, the vision and subsequent 'disappearance' of Narcissa Malfoy had left him reeling for days. He had never told anyone what actually happened to her though and he certainly never meant to tell Draco, he didn't deserve it, it was too painful._

_Their positions reversed, Harry was prepared to let Draco pummel him, because it wasn't fair and he really was sorry but Draco looked sick. He was white and shaking with repressed something, he grasped the front of Harry's robes in his fist and slammed him harder into the floor. _

"_Liar" his voice was deadly, hard emotions not risking it above a whisper and Harry wouldn't tell him no, because he was sorry, because Draco didn't deserve that pain. _

_He just wanted Draco to hit him now. He'd been thrown into a maelstrom of emotions, and he was sorry, and he wanted to help but he had no idea how to. Harry hadn't had to try and deal with anything that wasn't physical for a long time, though even back when he had he was only slightly better then a teaspoon, otherwise known as Ron. _

_Draco looked like he was about to say something though, Harry couldn't cope, he'd never regretted saying something so much in… well ages really… but he didn't know how to fix it. So he did the only thing he could think of to stop the words coming out of his mouth – it had always worked with Ginny. _

_A frozen Draco could not think to move his head. Potter stopped and lay his head back again, his eyes were hopeful. Draco reared back, infuriated, thoroughly confused by the look Potter was giving him because although the teen had become many things, Draco was damn sure that wasn't one of them._

"_What have you become Potter?" he asked quietly derisive. Too tired to fight him anymore, Draco pushed him into the ground one last time before retreating back to his wall. Harry watched him go, strong abdominal muscles allowing himself to rise slowly into a sitting position and look curiously towards Draco. _

"_What haven't I become" he replied with a mirthless chuckle. "You're a rich boy Draco – for enough galleons I'll be anything you want" Harry teased. _

"_Dead" Draco offered "non existent. Sans. Zilch. Zero. No more"_

"_Not an option, I'm immortal apparently" Harry replied very matter-of-fact._

"_Bullshit" Draco scoffed_

"_Well hopefully, but I mean bad things happen to people who try to kill me… worse things happen to people who try to save me actually… so go figure. I guess it's just a bad idea to have any sort of feelings for me really." Harry finished simply. _

"_Oh Harry, Harry, Harry life is so sad. I'll make it all better" Draco drawled, slowly crawling towards him with predatory eyes that changed to red the closer he got, his face morphing into the monstrous snake-like features of Voldemort and Harry just sat there, fighting with all his might to move but he couldn't and then the monster pounced and filth was all over him-_

There was a metallic crunching as Harry hit the floor with a thud, he groaned as he felt the sticky remains of his drink spreading across his shoulder blades. He'd had that stupid dream again, which pretty much made it close enough to the 25th time he had fucked Draco. It was always the same, starting out as their first re-meeting and then deteriorating into a sort of role played version of Narcissa Malfoy's last moments, except sometimes he was Voldemort instead, and when he got to know Draco better and he found out about what had been done to him by deatheaters, sometimes Harry dreamt he was one of them and he was hurting Draco.

Funny though because he had always had the slight assumption that Voldemort had something to do with the dreams; never mind that he was good at occulemency and Voldemort had no idea about his relationship with Draco… It was a bit daunting now that Voldemort was dead to have to admit that his own subconscious was punishing him for what he had said to Draco. Also, it was of course terribly stupid considering he had apologised at the time… In fact the real events were a nightmare all of their own which he had thrown right to the back of his occuleded mind – hopefully never to see again because basically what had really happened involved 'war-hardened' 'screw the world' 'couldn't care less about anything' 'no emotion' (etc you get the picture) Harry having a breakdown and crying all over Draco that he was sorry. Which at the time and considering the way things were had started a fairly good relationship between the two. Now however, the fact that Harry had possessed even the slightest amount of real emotion was a completely taboo subject.

"I too, survived the disco era" Phineas addressed him on the floor. He may have been concerned, but he was trying not to laugh.

"Oh shut up Phinny" replied Harry as he dragged himself upright, pulling a face at the portrait before stalking off to the shower. He could hear the man chuckling behind him and he whipped his head around to glare at him, turning the chuckle instead into a rather hacking cough. Harry just raised an eyebrow in challenge then turned into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

His eyes met the range of shower products available to him and he released a small strangled cry.

"Eurgh! Fucking poofter! Lavender, rose and honeysuckle – sure let's use that, then I'll just have to save everyone else the time and kick my own arse! Oh come on there must be something here that smells remotely masculine…" He queried – but there wasn't so instead he resolved himself to simply smell like a girl and fiddle with the wards of his house later so that he could zap the flavour of his shampoo as many times as he darn well pleased.

Being a wizard had perks and he certainly intended to use them.

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**AN: **Ok where to begin... let's start with the issue of Harry not being gay. I got a review that said it didn't like the gayness and I of course sat there and thought - gayness, what gayness? read the last chapter again - oh that gayness right. Anyway my best explanation for this is that my Harry is mentally ill... I really had thought that had come across but perhaps not.

Harry and Draco are friends... not 'friends' I think that was explained in this chapter but you're free to ask questions. Harry making random sexual innuendos and kissing male portraits - that kind of thing - is simply a way to defer attention, a sort of shock value that focuses attention away from 'him'. I know that doesn't sound like it makes sense - but it does (because I say so Muahaha).

Now then, for anyone who hasn't noticed, I have been trying out different, yet all very commonly used methods of getting reviews for the last 6 chapters... call it research if you will.

The results - all tried avenues were fairly useless, though cookies and no more writing threats worked very very marginally better then everything else. So the avenues I haven't tried that I can think of - regularly having decent sized updates and dangling the word hiatus in there. However, both these cannot be used by me because I write as I go, I think as I write and I update when I lose the train of thought basically - which means I update so sporadically there would be no point in saying hiatus because I think unfortunately those that follow my stories are learning that I am always on hiatus... until I update lol.

Anyway, if anyone else has ever looked into "just what is it that makes people review" - I would be interested in the answer they got. Unless they're flaming and think they're going to be funny by saying 'a decent story', I'd like to rule that option out now and refer to them as a common name for a rooster in advance.

Thankyou for your continued story patronage - peace, love, unity etc

Katty xx


	8. Chapter 8

**_Hey - will you look at that... It appears to be an update... hmmm..._**

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It was a universally known fact that showers were the number one place for thinking things through, second only to baths, which were the females' version… or perhaps just the better option for people with a lot of time.

At any rate, with the water beating down upon his aching back, Harry found himself in a good position for thinking. Not that his thoughts were bringing him to any good conclusion… all things considered it was fairly obvious Fawkes had done something, but the thought that the actions of a pheasant stuck on permanent roast had changed the entire makeup of the world… well… they'd bypassed logic and turned left at highly unlikely.

Was he still a muggle, which perhaps he was depending on the level of his hallucinogenic ability, then he could perhaps consider that he'd imagined everything that had happened in his life before now… It was possible but it couldn't explain his magical ability, the talking portrait, or why Fawkes' smell never reminded him of Nando's chicken. Of course he supposed they could have been part of his imagination too but then why hadn't he come to this realisation before now – he was 18 for crying out loud!

Unless he had come to this realisation before… and he just didn't remember it – but no, his memory wasn't the thing in question, there was nothing wrong with his recall… it was just, something else… Anyway, if he was just hallucinating, why would Phineaus deny knowing him?

"It's your fucking subconscious, who the hell else knows?" Harry growled at himself, fisting his hands frustratedly in his hair. Harry Potter was synonymous with wizardry… which just happened to be widely recognised as a thing of fantasy… but he was so _sure_ that he was a wizard, he had apparated to the apartment for goodness' sake, even if it wasn't real, it remained the only reality he knew.

It was very odd though, the way things were so different and yet so the same, he knew nothing of Phoenixes or of even magic in general for that matter, that could make such changes. His ego had managed to work itself up again in that he refused to further question his own sanity, he was sure of his life, and if he wasn't … well… it didn't matter, because there wasn't anything else to be sure of anyway.

So that left magic, as it usually did, to be the culprit of a gigantically unlikely change in his life, hardly the sort of thing he should be getting worked up about then.

Giving up for the moment, Harry shut off the shower and roughly towelled himself dry before wrapping the fluffy bath sheet tightly around his hips and walking back out to the lounge room.

"Did you perhaps want to put on some clothes" chided Phineaus disdainfully.

"I did actually" Harry remarked cheerfully "and so I have to do the wards"

He began marking things on the floor with his wand, after a few minutes he deemed it done and throwing his towel onto the couch he sat in the middle of his markings.

"Oh for- Have you no modesty" the ruffled portrait exclaimed. Harry just smirked.

"If you've got it flaunt it" he laughed "besides, I can't have any interference so hush – and stop acting like you don't love it anyway"

Phineaus looked set to continue but Harry just pointed his wand at him threateningly and so he shut up and sat back to watch.

Being as he was the 'boy-who-lived' and not the 'boy-who-did-things-by-halves', the warding process on his house was very long, extensive, complicated and … arduous. All the important ones to stop intruders, block tracing and tracking and deter unwanted visitors, aka Mormon and girl guides, had to be carefully constructed. Harry set to work at about 5pm in the afternoon, and fell into an unconscious stupor after finishing with the magic around 11pm that night. He had no real intentions of waking up anytime before 11am the next morning but we have established – things never really go the way Harry wants them too.

At around 6am the next morning, dull thudding vibrations eventually urged him to open his eyes, noticing nothing, he closed them again. Still the noises and vibrations continued. Feeling steamrolled and far worse then merely hung-over, Harry dragged his compressed from sleep ribs into an upright position, whole body wincing in pain… which caused it only more pain. Eventually he managed to get his legs underneath him and he rose like an invertebrate worm to the window.

The light glared in his eyes as he tried to get a good look at the streets below him causing his head to thud painfully.

'_God help the bastard doing road works at this hour'_ he thought ominously to himself, but looking down revealed no road works, instead he saw a line of black emitting colourful flashes of light.

'_Oh ho ho! Never mind God I have so got this covered'_ his cheerful insanity creeping its way into his mental voice. Then, however, front and centre of the line, he saw, impossibly… well you know who and he was oh so cranky about it! Yet still slightly disbelieving of the likelihood.

"Phineaus" he questioned curiously, "If I told you I could see Voldemort downstairs… do you think that would be odd?"

"In what sense" Phineaus replied carefully.

"Well I mean, like, you've heard of him? He's still around, famous maybe?" Harry asked.

"Hmm, famous… maybe… liked sliced bread" quipped Phineaus sarcastically, "evil sliced bread of course, good for teens not for ducks"

"What?" asked Harry with a raised brow.

"Pop-culture reference, never mind" replied Phineaus nonchalant, "If you can see Voldemort downstairs I would recommend you get away from the window, cast an unbreakable spell on the building, and go and hide under something solid."

"Don't be ridiculous" scoffed Harry as he lent back besides the window, "We're ten stories up, there's no spell that can touch this apartment from that distance, otherwise I would have warded for i-"

It was more of a crack really, than a bang, as the wall on the east of the building crumbled to the ground, somewhat like the sound of realigning ones cartilage. Harry of course, being the lucky soul he was, fell straight out after it, which should have killed him for certain, but no, because back in the day when he had to live until Voldemort was dead, he had taken out a few insurance policies, which was metaphorical for he had gotten enough anti-crush, anti-fall, anti-get-hit-by-a-bus-and-die tattoos, that his butt cheeks resembled the confederation flag – just with funny little emblems instead of stars.

The long and the short of which meant, that no, he did not die, he bounced, he hit the ground damn hard with his arse, like a kid bouncing on a trampoline, except a) it friggin' hurt and b) Harry had never had a trampoline. So after being propelled 3ft back in the air he came flailing down again with no eloquence what so ever and face planted into the ground.

He was going to kill Voldemort, he was going to absolutely, really, really… really kill him. He was going to rip his bleeding heart out through his anus and then use it to choke him to death, no he would poison the heart first and then use it to choke him with and then-

Harry only realised he was mumbling incoherently when he heard another's voice aside from his own and it was Sirius… which must have meant the order had arrived

"Honest little bugger isn't he" he joked quietly to James, who could only nod numbly in response, as he stared in awe at the boy-who-fell… a lot.

Surely Harry shouldn't have been able to hear such a quite remark in a raging battle though… unless… oh. Slowly he managed to raise his head and then torso out of the ground and sit back to look at the people around him. Just as he had suspected, the fighting had stopped, and everyone was staring at him because he just _loved _to be the centre of attention.

Nobody moved as Harry curiously surveyed them all. Voldemort's supporters because with a motion of his hand he ceased them fighting, he just had that sort of control. Dumbledore's because, well, they were just a little dumb like that.

"I assume you are the one that claims to be the reincarnation of Harry Potter, the child prophesied to be my downfall" Voldemort stated dramatically, ever the showman. "and yet here you sit crying in front of me like so many before you" he gave a harsh chuckle "so, Harry Potter, I will simply kill you again, and again, and if needs must again until you cease to be an inconvenience in my life"

_Crying?_

_CRYING? _

_Oh, there goes the testosterone safety switch… _

"First of all, I would love to smash your nose into the ground from ten stories and see if you come out of it smiling, but I want to rip you apart with my bare hands so badly right now I couldn't possibly contemplate taking the time to get you even a foot off the ground. Secondly I would never claim to be a reincarnation - that fucking poofter shit is your arena and finally I would like to add that the feeling is so totally sodding mutual I will print your quote on every sympathy card I send your sock eaters, every time I have to kill you again. Oh and yes I meant the innuendo you fucking great dyke" Harry added as he leapt from the ground, entrancing himself completely in the grace that was his 'fight mode', and set Voldemort's robes on fire.

Sure, it was childish but he was really, really cranky.

* * *

**_Just because I thought it was time again to point out that I'm not dead... oh and because it's uni holidays and I told myself I'd try and finish this and do a 2500 word assignment on ... well I don't know, I haven't looked properly, I'm just that good at procrastinating. _**

**_I hope you liked it, and I hope it's getting back on its non existent plot resembling track... but umm seeing as it was just supposed to be a oneshot... I doubt that... _**

**_Katty xx_**


	9. Chapter 9

**OMG! it's a bird, it's a plane...no! it's an update!!**

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Voldemort doused them out quickly with a minute flick of his wand, he was smirking haughtily as he made some long comment about it being sad to remove the younger generation before they could reach potential, but still weeding was necessary… or it was something like that at least anyway. Harry wasn't paying attention, he knew Voldemort well enough not to be looking at the smirk on his face but the way his neck muscles twitched in annoyance at having anything he owned damaged. Harry always supposed it was an orphanage 'thing' of his, he didn't really care, just knew it pissed Voldemort off immensely.

"If you're quite done pretending to everyone like you aren't going home to cry over your singed robes, would you mind hitting me with your best shot… biatch" Harry laughed mockingly (insanely is also a fitting description) as Voldemort reacted to his muggle name calling and fired a few avada's at him. There was nothing quite like offensive muggle terminology to get the Dark Lord all shirty.

Voldemort obviously got over his surprise at Harry's ability to dance around the more dangerous offensive spells and brush off the less, because he seemed to have decided to stop playing with the 'little boy' and start trying to kill him.

Harry, lucky sod that he always was, could not get his wand out of his wrist holster, it was stuck, and the timing was very inappropriate. It's not like he couldn't use it how it was… but he couldn't use it properly, and he sort of needed to be able to at that moment. Voldemort stepping things up was not helping matters, it was getting very difficult to tell from his periperhal vision which spells would kill him and which he could block, not to mention that looking at the holster wasn't helping him get his wand out any faster.

'_Next time, don't insult him until you're completely ready you idiot' _Harry mentally chided himself.

He decided to try for another approach, and used some quite flexible moves if he did say so himself, to get closer to Voldemort. Who, it seemed was not happy with Harry's tactic and fired in a frenzy trying to hit the boy before he got within striking distance.

However, the only person with less luck then Harry, was probably Voldemort, and he did not succeed in hitting Harry at all. On the other hand, Harry managed to belt him across the face, the sheer force of which seemed to unlock his wand, unfortunately it also seemed to propel his wand – far, far away. So it seemed, as Voldemort quickly returned to his feet, mutinously staring down a wandless Harry – that actually no; no one had worse luck then he did.

Now it seemed things had come down to 2 choices – die and look bad, or pull off a gymnastic routine that could put a hard core transvestite to shame. Voldemort's 'victorious' smile made the decision for him – he was not prepared to lose today, not over an inferior issue like his masculinity.

So he twirled, tumbled, flipped, cart wheeled and rolled his way to his wand – which to his amazement no dumb fuck had thought to pick up, and Voldemort firing at him all the way only managed to hit a few of the people watching them. Harry who had landed crouching, now with wand in hand, smiled as he looked up at Voldemort through his lashes.

Voldemort smiled back.

Harry fired the first obligatory AK, taking care to place it in such a way Voldemort was inclined to dodge like a salsa dancer rather then raise a more complex shield. Voldemort shot the same back, forcing Harry up from the ground. Both had landed now face to face, the mandatory death curses over, they had decided to play.

It was a bit like sex, not really the sort of notion one likes to apply to a butt-ugly geriatric, but still, the likeness was there. They had thought they knew each other, but now they knew they didn't and it was all about exploring each others bodies – or magic rather.

Harry expected Voldemort to be… well… Voldemort, and he was, save for the part where he wasn't. This version thought differently, moved differently, used dark magic differently and Harry was glad the fight had become less… deathly, because he was not ready for this Voldemort.

The Dark Lord himself of course had come expecting an upstart young teen, come straight from school on his high and mighty horse, in need of a good deading. What he'd found was a young man, hurtling within the maelstrom of dark arts and cocooned with a shear contempt for absolutely everything around him.

Voldemort was a man, for all that he claimed himself above them, and men had a fierce primal desire to tame things that were wild. His desperation to have this child as his possession, this hurricane of power cowering at his feet like the rest of his followers, it grew with every spell he blocked and exploded exponentially with every dark spell the boy cast, always beautifully powerful but horrendously mistaught. He wanted that canvas, and he would have it because he was after all, a pretty big deal.

No words were spoken between the pair, no sarcastic banter was necessary because it was said with every spell, each trying to out-think and out-dark the other and then out of nowhere an acid blood spell of Harry's flew past Voldemort and knocked down a man behind him. At first Harry took no notice, there were a lot of morons getting killed because they were too dumb to move away or shield themselves, and he wasn't looking past the fight in front of him. Then behind the man he saw a fat flash of red robes, phoenix colours, he looked twice, it was Pettigrew, on the wrong side.

The distraction was too long, he couldn't get his focus back quickly enough and a bone breaking hex caught him off guard. He was hit in the wrist, it was supposed to disarm him but he managed to hang on, though he couldn't move his hand from the excruciating pain shooting along his arm. This was Voldemort's way of teaching him a valuable battle lesson, granted one he'd already learnt a few times, but anyway, this Voldemort clearly didn't know that.

Still though, the old Voldemort was pretty much the same, after Harry turned away from the dead Dumbledore's manipulations in his seventh year and decided that he valued his own life actually, thanks all the same, they had become… closer. It was hard to explain, basically, the Dark Lord was a nut-job through and through and enjoyed watching Harry learn to fight, to kill, to lose everything and hate everyone. He really did enjoy teaching, and liked to teach Harry aspects of the dark arts during what were really play fights.

Voldemort was funny like that; he never let anyone else attack Harry even though as the years went on Harry was slowly killing more and more of them, getting better at hunting them down. The Dark Lord was always the one to come and find Harry in some private corner of the battle field and pretend to fight with him to try and kill him, but he would always hold back, taunt Harry about his mood, comment on his love life, break bones if he got distracted by the battle, cast dark spells in such an exaggerated fashion, that they would usually just 'happen' to hit not Harry, but some unsuspecting other person in the battle – and that was how Harry learnt most of his dark spells. Voldemort enjoyed protecting Harry, and training him to be truly worthy to fight him – he _was_ a nut-job, but a successful one all the same, because Harry got so worthy to fight him, he darn well beat the snot out of him.

For whatever reason, this new Voldemort seemed set to be trying to do the same thing, but Harry didn't give a flying Frisbee – all that stuff was old news. No the real issue was why Pettigrew was infusing his filthy traitorous BO into Order of the Phoenix robes and no one was batting an eyelash at it.

"_Pause_" he yelled to Voldemort in Parseltongue, the change of language causing a smile to spread across the Dark Lord's face.

"_A wise decision on your part I think my little serpent_" he hissed, just slightly taunting.

"_I'm about as little as I am your anything, and I'm not giving up, this is just 'pause'. What is he doing there?"_ Harry demanded, unsuccessfully trying to withhold his abhorrence of Pettigrew as he gestured in his direction.

"_The clerk?" _Voldemort questioned.

"_I don't know what he does for a living! The bloody great traitorous hippopotamus in the wrong colour robes over there!!" _He spat frustratedly, only stoping himself from stomping his foot at the last minute, by 'casually' using it to scratch his leg instead.

"_Pettigrew?" _asked Voldemort.

"_YES_" Harry practically yelled, cursing himself and his lack of self control as his foot thudded against the ground.

"_That's a secret little serpent"_ Voldemort chuckled…evilly.

"_How?! How can that possibly be a secret if I'm supposed to be dead and both Pettigrew and Sirius are fighting together?"_ Harry demanded more to himself really, because absolutely no logic he applied could fit it in any sort of parallel happenings. "_Oh and one more time with the 'little serpent' thing and I'll give you a physical demonstration you wont walk off in a hurry"_ he finished threateningly with a sleazy little wink.

"_But you are a little serpent" _Voldemort hissed, clearly amused.

"_And you're a fucking wanker, but can we focus, how is he still a spy if Sirius is there too?" _Demanded Harry.

"_Pettigrew was not blamed. What does Black have to do with anything?"_ replied Voldemort sharply, Harry's tone beginning to anger him.

"_Everything"_ Harry whispered to himself, trying to make sense of things, Voldemort heard him all the same. This whole sodding mess was getting a bit past complicated, it didn't make sense, it couldn't make sense. If all the marauders were present then they couldn't have been blamed, nor could Dumbledore for obvious Stella fella reasons – and who else was trustworthy enough?

"_Who? Who was blamed?"_ he asked quietly, calculatingly of Voldemort.

"_Sssseverus"_ came the hissed reply, drawn out for effect as Voldemort grinned maliciously back at his dumbstruck face.

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**Ta daaa!... I do apologise for being such a terrible updater, but, such is life... I quite liked this chapter, it was stuck for ages on one bloody line.. and then suddenly this STUPID assignment is due in a week and I can write again - it's a freakin' miracle!! **

**Yeah... really don't have anything much to say, though I should probably point out, this 'story' doesn't actually have a plot, it has a plot device, which is I guess where the confusion comes from, but in case you were wondering - no, it's not going anywhere in particular and should have finished 6 chapters ago...**

**:-) Katty xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Holidays!! Oh Happy holidays to ye all... though that would probably be only the extreme few of you that happen to go to Uni in good ol' Qld... **

**So let's just go with, Happy Holidays to me and Happy Udpate for you... yes? **

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

Well that couldn't make any sense either, because his father hated Snape and his mother had nothing to do with him. So the only reason he would be the secret keeper was on Dumbledore's orders and if that was the case then surely at least one of them wouldn't be teaching anymore… or alive for that matter.

Voldemort watched his inability to comprehend the notion with amused curiosity. The milling morons, not understanding the language or sudden standstill whatsoever, continued to mill moronically but in a slightly more anticipatory manner. Any man who could cartwheel in robes deserved anticipation, regardless of who they fought.

Harry could not spot Snape anywhere among the onlookers, not in robes of either colour. Also, the fact that his father and Snape had been alive in the same room just a day ago, without too much animosity for one another – at least not the sort Harry imagined his death and subsequent murderer should obtain, led him only to more confusion.

"Oh", he realised, "_You're lying_?" He said guessing hopefully. It was both a statement and a question.

"_I have no reason to lie to you my young snake. Certainly you need to learn discipline, but I would not lie for I am a fair and merciful master"_ Voldemort crooned softly.

"_Gah that's creepy"_ Harry shuddered, "_better, but still creepy."_ He huffed and fidgeted where he stood, Harry hated admitting ignorance to the man but he couldn't stand this mystery, so he had no choice.

"_I don't see what Snape has to do with my family, they hate each other"_ he said petulantly, his eyes moving unconsciously to the Dark Lord's left ear, rather then challenging his gaze. Voldemort smirked knowingly and answered simply.

"_Yes they do_"

"_Ah of course"_ said Harry, eyes flicking back to Voldemort's in challenge and thoroughly sick of running in circles, "_just excuse my silly logic for thinking you don't ask people who hate you, and very possibly work for the other side to guard the secret of your life. I mean what's the fun of having a fidelus when the bloody Dark Lord doesn't know the password?!"_

Voldemort smiled and chuckled darkly.

"_You are so impatient, so angry my child. Come with me and I shall teach you things beyond your imagination, you shall have power above all others but myself and we wil-"_

"_Stop Hitting On Me you pervy old man!_" yelled Harry, cutting the Dark Lord off and sending his spittle flying furiously at the attempt to bellow in parseltongue. "_Just tell me what I bloody well want to kn-"_

A blasting curse sent him hurtling backwards where he slammed firmly into the pavement on his back. He ignored the throbbing in his wrist to raise his wand at the oncoming Voldemort, but a simple expelliamus was too quick for him and the man gained possession of his wand. Quickly he came to stand over him, pointing both wands threateningly at his head. It was a rather stupid and forgetful thing to do, considering the previous flexibility shown by the boy.

There was a brief sound of swishing fabric and a resonating thud. The Dark Lord dropped soundlessly to his knees, hands gripping his crotch in a desperate search for testicles that had retreated to his nasal cavity. Harry had already regained his slightly unsteady feet and in Voldemort's fall had managed to tug free the wands. He eyed the man suspiciously, not willing to kill him without knowing more. Briefly he glanced at Voldemort's wand, twirling it in his fingers and recognising the glossy holly as still being his wand's brother.

He looked back at Voldemort and smirked mischievously.

"_Bit of the kettle calling the Potter black there little serpent" _His eyes glistened in challenge, "_and just so you know, that's the only hanky panky you'll be getting from me" _

Derisively he tossed the wand back to Voldemort and apparated away.

The game was on.

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**I'm feeling lazy so you'll have to use your own imagination to come up with something brilliant for my usual review lacking rant.**

**"Reviews whinge whine etcetera add nausem…"**

**Does that help?**

**Now review, because Mentok wills it so… and I don't know who Mentok is…**

**Katty xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks to my reviewers - enjoy an amazingly fast updated chapter :)**

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Severus Snape was currently sitting in very bad spirits, charged as he was with the care of a mass detention. A situation had been called in earlier that morning, the Death Eaters were razeeing a little of inner-city London and as it was, Voldemort hadn't given him enough notice to take the day off. So, instead of being able to vent some of his aggression at the upstart aurors that thought they ran the school just because a ministry department sanctioned them there. He was stuck with not only his own hefty Saturday morning detention load, but that of the Order professors, the aurors and then suddenly every detention that had been given for Saturday was sent to be supervised by him. They only needed one teacher after all, and with so many already, what were a few more students to Severus? Why should everyone suffer when Severus could just as easily do the job for them?

'Why _indeed_' he thought maliciously, ideas of mass death of the students before him flashing across his mind's eye. Lucius would surely be up for it, he could get a few of their friends together and gleefully watch his Saturday morning detentions disappear before his eyes. If the aurors were too stupid and gung-ho to stay back and guard the school – as was their **job**, and he was smart enough to leave no survivors… or evidence rather… Then what difference did it make. Dead here or dead there, everyone was dead eventually and he'd rather have his morning free.

However, Dumbledore 'trusted him wholeheartedly with the safety of the students'. Which was a bit rich considering the man didn't really trust him to take a piss without examining his conscious for dark intentions. Once upon a time Severus had put his faith in the man, risking his life, and they had formed a strong friendship. As usual however, when his word was put against that of a Gryffindor he came out with nothing. Out of respect for the friendship they had and because Severus was very good at what he did, Dumbledore kept him alive and out of Azkaban, allowing him to keep his job.

Not killing his students was about all Severus could bring himself to do in return. He liked having his job, so he left all attempts to kill fellow staff members and students to the battlefield but he was no double agent. Not anymore. He served loyally the one man who had never let him down and actually held him above others, morals be damned.

Bored of his self temptation, Severus moved his attention to scanning the room before him, the great hall in fact. He purposely sat in the headmaster's seat, that way it would stir the students up and he could give most of them more detentions… but with their original teachers. Passive aggression worked.

There were at least sixty children sitting about the tables of the room, 30 of which were from the Gryffindor table, 19 of whom had acquired their detention from him in the first place, 28 of which would now be serving another two detentions with their head of house. Sometimes you had to make your own justice in the world.

Spotting Draco and further opportunity to stir the lions den, he motioned the boy towards the head table. Draco did little to withhold his smirk at the professor's games and quickly packed up his books and made his way up to the head table, plonking himself insolently in the Deputy Headmistresses chair at Snape's invitation.

"Granger, Longbottom detention" Snape intoned loudly across the room. '_30_' he mentally cheered. Draco was resting his chin on his hand smirking at Snape and trying not to laugh out loud.

"Good morning Draco?" Snape questioned calmly.

"Increasingly so" Draco laughed back quietly.

"There was no sense in both of us perishing from lack of stimulation. Regale me with tales of your dramatic young life! Why are you on detention?" Snape asked with drawling, almost enthusiasm.

"McGonagall the bint, I didn't hand in my homework and she didn't like my excuse" Spat Draco.

"Draco don't be obscene, especially not about women old enough to be your grandmother. What was your excuse?" reprimanded Severus casually.

"Eww" Draco remarked pulling his lips back in a horrified sneer "Don't _you _be obscene! That's disgusting! Gah!" He shook himself, "All I said to her was I couldn't do the task because I didn't have the time… or the slightest inclination to associate myself with such utter bullshit" Draco finished simply, causing Snape to laugh so hard inside both of his eyebrows twitched… thrice!

"I see" he said, a laughing smile hidden behind his thin mouth and gleaming black eyes. "So besides that, how goes life?"

"The usual, Dumbledore and his garbage about moral paths or whatever" replied Draco derisively.

"Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten about that" said Snape, his interest peaked, "How did your little _chat _with Dumbledore go yesterday?"

"Well" started Draco, frowning in confused humour, "I have nearly absolutely no memory of the specifics of what Dumbledore was saying, because for Merlin-knows-what reason, he had Professor Flitwick there too. So I spent the whole time trying to work out why. At first I thought maybe it was to show 'neutrality' but he never actually said anything, just squeaked every now and again. So then I thought maybe Dumbledore figured I was afraid of him and having a midget present would make me more open or something. Or, alternatively he had some nasty fetishes to play out if I pledged allegiance to the 'light' side" he finished cheekily.

Air escaped Snape's pursed lips in what could almost be described as a chuckle.

"For someone who over thinks these things so much you certainly make conclusions that are far away from logic" he stated. "It is required in any allegation of sexual assault that there be more then one adult present at interviews" Snape concluded simply.

"There was no bloody allegations!" spat Draco defensively, "A nut job, who I have never met in my life started spouting the kind of insane babble nut jobs spout. It doesn't make it true!" he growled finally.

"I wasn't asking Draco" Snape said calmingly, "and I won't. If you don't want to talk about it, I regard you no lesser, but never lie to me, that's pointless" he grinned somewhat playfully.

Draco just pursed his lips and examined the smooth grain of the table intently, tracing the pattern with his index finger.

"What happened with the nutcase anyway" he asked, changing the subject.

"Not a lot" replied Snape indifferently, "He thought he was dead, and we were dead, and Potter was his father, and we could teach a phoenix French, and my personal favourite – that he had killed the Dark Lord single-handedly."

Draco laughed derisively, "What a psychopath!"

"Yes well the bloody gamekeeper tried to argue his ability to take over the school by destroying the lawn" Snape spat incredulously, gripping his brow as if pained by the very thought. "Give me a psychopath over a moron any day" he said resolutely, relaxing back in his chair.

Hissing laughter was Draco's attempt to display sympathy and it was cut off by a huge wailing alarm that reverberated around the school. Students immediately began to panic, yells and screams filled the great hall and there were sounds of scraping benches as they tried to evacuate.

"SILENCE!" Snape yelled dangerously across the room "Resume your seats now and sit soundlessly or I will kill you myself" he said determinedly staring down any who did not immediately obey. With the students controlled down to many panicked mutterings, Snape gave a flick of his wand in the direction of the hall's outside facing wall. Rather like the enchanted ceiling that showed the night sky, the wall changed to reveal the outside world. Swiftly Snape spotted the alarm's trigger, it was the boy. Once the students spotted him the panic became speculation and many returned to their work, albeit a little distractedly.

"I wonder who he thinks he's buggered this time" stated Draco sarcastically.

"I hope it's Granger" whispered Snape "I'd pay galleons to see that interview" he said mockingly. To the students on detention he spoke more loudly, "You may leave this room at 12pm, no sooner. I will know if you do" That said he motioned to Draco to return to his seat and made his way out to intercept the mentally ill teen.

No sooner had the door shut behind him, than he was met with Professor McGonagall.

"Ah, Severus – I was just coming to see you. I take it you're aware of the boy" she said briskly. Snape simply hummed in response.

"Yes, good" she continued, "Well, Dumbledore has advised that we do not interfere with him, so I shall be meeting and guiding him from here" she concluded firmly.

"What you mean to say Minerva" said Snape, smirking, "Is that Dumbledore wishes I do not interfere with him. That is fine, here are your detention slips for next weekend" he concluded simply, motioning with his wand to drop an avalanche of scrolls into the woman's arms. She thanked him tersely, without reply he turned on his heel and glided away to the dungeons.

She was just trying to wrestle her wand around the papers when she looked up to notice that the boy had already slipped noiselessly into the hall and had paused only as she looked up.

Startled uncharacteristically she let out a slight yelp and fumbled the scrolls, dropping her wand and sending them all flying in the process. Suddenly defenceless she stared frozenly at the form of the battered boy, her heart beating rapidly in tense anticipation.

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**Now then, skipping my usual reviewless rant this update to talk politics...**

**The International Whaling Commission is currently meeting in Chile to discuss and debate the reinstation of commercial whaling. This is an inhumane industry that needs to be shut down. **

**Boycott all products of pro-whaling countries (Japan, Norway, Iceland etc) - economics speak!**

**I support the anti-whaling movement - do YOU?**

**Of course asking the majority of fanfiction writers to boycott anime would be like asking an emo to smile... There's no evidence, but I suspect it might kill them - so don't risk it! :) **

**Write little writers and cry little emos, the world will still turn**

**Well that was something different hehehe**

**Katty xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Just a tiny 1000 word or so update... because... I can**

**Enjoy**

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Harry flicked his wand to pick up the scrolls and was forced to raise an eyebrow when the apparently spritely McGonagall dived onto the floor, grabbing her wand and rolling to her feet while firing a blasting curse, all in one fluid movement. Perhaps just a little bit more because he was irritated that she was firing at him and not because it was the only option he could think of – he moved the paper pile in front of himself to block the spell.

Paper exploded everywhere and began raining down upon them both in tiny mock snowflakes, leaving the pair of them standing absurdly and more then a little awkwardly with 'snow' all through their hair and over their clothes, piles only growing as paper continued to rain from the ceiling. McGonagall stood looking quite a bit sheepish at her overreaction while Harry hadn't moved at all, his eyebrow still raised in wry, almost-amusement.

"Don't worry" he said dryly, "I have that effect on a lot of people".

Elsewhere, at the door to the great hall a quiet fight was playing out.

"Malfoy you shouldn't be spying on the teachers. I could still deduct points you know" Hermione Granger whispered furiously to the boy standing flush with the wall, peering out a crack in the door, Neville Longbottom standing as slightly unwilling sentry behind her.

"Shove off Granger!" Malfoy spat back very quietly, "If you want a spot, then get on the floor where you mudbloods belong" he finished with a cheeky smirk and moved himself slightly (very, ever so minimally) so she could fit at the bottom of the doorframe. Neville moved to defend her but Granger just shook her head and rolled her eyes at him to show Malfoy wasn't worth the time. Neville smiled at her and nodded in dutiful agreement, Draco just fixed him with a dismissive glare that clearly said he wasn't worth the air he wasted and then rolled his eyes at the pair of them before returning to his spying.

Hermione huffed indignantly and shoved in front of Malfoy for a spot at the door crack. Draco jumped back at the contact and sucked up all the pompous ire from the air he could before irately spitting out,

"Don't you dare touch me you dirty little mudblood!"

"Deal with it Malfoy" was all Hermione would calmly reply. This only led to Draco sucking in more air, his chest threatening to explode with the indignity of it all. Of course he wasn't allowed to retaliate physically seeing as Granger unfortunately qualified as a girl… and no rightly bred pureblood would ever hit a girl. So Draco was left sucking in air until he could suck it in no more, then he released it all in one long hiss.

"One of these days Granger, someone is going to put you in your place" He threatened bodingly.

"I'll keep that in mind" she said with a dismissive smirk, not even bothering to turn from her position at the door. She jumped however when she felt contact at her back, "What are you doing Malfoy?" she demanded huffily, turning to look up at him.

"Well I'll already have to incinerate the robes, I may as well not miss the show" he said haughtily, smiling at her obvious discomfort.

"Sure Malfoy, like you won't sleep with them under your pillow for the rest of the year" she argued back irritably. For a second Draco seemed too surprised that she would suggest such a thing to speak, but it passed quickly.

"Hardly Granger, because unlike you I wouldn't be able to stand having my face covered in Longbottom's cum", he drawled mockingly.

The effect of that little quip was well expected and almost instantaneous – Granger went to slap him just as Longbottom lunged at him, and Draco who managed to miss both was forced to fight back a laugh as the notoriously clumsy Neville managed to send both himself and Granger sprawling out into the hall.

Then he heard perhaps the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard in his life.

"Hermione?" It was the nutcase! The nutcase DID bugger Granger after all; Snape was in for an early Christmas. All this processed through his mind so quickly he was already letting out the strangled laugh he'd been trying to hold back before he managed slap his own palm across his mouth to stop the sound coming out. But the nutcase got worse…

"Hermione? I can't believe it's you. I've missed you so much since that last night-" By this stage Draco was attempting the physically impossible task of stuffing his whole fist down his throat to silence the laughs that his pharynx refused to cut off, only made worse by the sight of Granger standing frozen and speechless for once in her life. Then the nutcase must have noticed Longbottom…

"Neville! It's so good to see you here, I thought after that last one you might have been done for good." At that point Draco actually choked on his own fist, and he was forced to shut the door, before he was seen. He was laughing so hard now he couldn't even stand up anymore, so he slid down against the door, tears running down his face, snot hanging from his nose and drool coming out his mouth. The situation was so past hilarious he was actually laughing silently all by himself now… only emitting strange little squeaks every so often when he had to take a breath.

McDougal, a Ravenclaw prefect and a few of his friends were the only ones brave enough to approach the laughing Malfoy on the floor, who was looking as far from his usual preppy self as it was possible for him to look.

"Oi Malfoy, you alright?" asked the prefect cautiously.

Between large gasps of air Draco managed to get out, "Granger… sexed… nutcase… there" he finished, wildly gesturing towards the entrance hall.

"Malfoy you are so full of shit!" scoffed McDougal.

"No… there… look!" Draco laughed out, grasping his stomach and just managing to crawl away from the door enough so the prefect could see for himself. He did and then after a good five seconds of being jaw droppedly frozen at the sight he closed the door carefully again and yelled out to the whole hall,

"Bloody Hermione Granger has a boyfriend"… no one really reacted, "it's not Longbottom" he added and anarchy broke out as students all began struggling to get a glimpse of the impossible boy that had apparently penetrated the ice fortress that was Hermione Granger, muggleborn and prefect extraordinaire. All the while Draco Malfoy sat laughing gleefully on the floor.

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**I decided I'd rather have a short update then a long period of being stuck on this one section... reviews help me think you see :)**

**On that note "review... lack reviews... rant ... rant... blahhhhh blaaaaaah... reviews good... drugs bad... hippos vegetarian?"**

**Katty xx **


	13. Chapter 13

**Just a tiny update in which I manage to kill Hermione (by drowning her in the OOC), well you can be the judge... enjoy!**

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Harry released the girl that was in many ways Hermione from his embrace, taking the time to look into her stunned face.

"Well this is awkward isn't it" he said cheerfully, examining the other faces around him.

"Yes" Hermione breathlessly replied, nodding vigorously.

"I'm just a stranger to you aren't I" he continued quietly, searching her eyes for any sign of recognition and finding none. Gently he stroked the bushy hair away from her face, revelling in the feeling of being so close, yet he was so far. He sighed the sort of sigh Atlas must when a fat person is born – unnoticeable to him, but sad and resigned as if the world had crushed him just that little bit more.

"Y-yes" she stuttered, still nodding from the previous question. Harry plastered the cheerful façade back over himself again and grinned at her mischievously.

"You're only letting me hug you because I'm hot aren't you" he asked.

"Ye- No!" she replied furiously, her vigorous nodding finally stopped once she realised what he said, "Get away from me you… you… you-"

"Harry" he filled in.

"_Harry_" she repeated quietly to herself, which made Harry laugh, which set her off again.

"You ass!" she completed, looking to McGonagall who gave her a slight nod of approval to leave, so she turned on her heel, grabbing Neville on her way and storming out of the vicinity.

Harry just watched her go, totally fixated until she exited down a corridor and he couldn't see her anymore. Only then was he able to shake himself from his reverie, and glancing at the professor to ascertain that she didn't intend to speak to him, he made his way along the familiar path to the hospital wing.

Upon finally arriving at his destination, Harry made to hold the door open for the aged professor. She gave his lingering form in the doorframe however such a violent glare at the mere suggestion of his chivalry that it was all he could do to hold in a frightened squeak and dash for the protection of the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey was busily remaking a pristine bed, just in the middle of smoothing the crinkles out of the crisp white linen, she looked up, quite startled at the arrival of the previous days mental patient she was lost for words.

"Umm hi" Harry said, raising a hand in greeting and glancing nervously between the two women in the room, his old social awkwardness glimpsing through. "I was just wondering, if when you had a moment of time, could you please fix my wrist for me?" he asked politely.

McGonagall looked taken aback at his different demeanour, but the nurse was moving at the first mention of injury, she was on that wrist like a dog on a duck.

"How did this happen" she asked calmly, poking and prodding at his proffered injury, while simultaneously guiding him towards the bed she had been working on.

"Well" began Harry, flashing her his 'charming' smile, at ease now that the nurse at least was acting normally, "technically _I_ didn't do it."

"No of course, technically I believe it was Voldemort that caused such an injury" Dumbledore stated humorously, walking through the door McGonagall had most irritatingly left open with a plethora of followers that Harry didn't bother to identify. For that matter he didn't even glance in Dumbledore's direction, preferring instead to roll his eyes at the ceiling and grit his teeth as the nurse used her wand to snap his bones back into place.

"All done" she told him pleasantly, giving him a placating pat on his previously injured wrist. "Be sure you don't put too much strain on it for a couple of days though" she told him sternly, "and stay out of trouble" she concluded in her usual fashion, making Harry smile more broadly at her.

"Thankyou" he told the nurse sincerely, "I'll try, but look – it's already found me! What can I do for you today Mr Headmaster sir?" he asked sarcastically, turning himself to sit flauntingly on the bed, facing the newly arrived group.

"You can prove you're not death eater scum!" a roughed up Moody growled out at him. Walking over to Harry on the bed and pushing the teen down to grab his arm.

"Oh, oh Moody! I never realised you were so … vigorous!" squealed Harry in a falsely high-pitched and seductive voice. He allowed Moody to pull back the sleeve on his left forearm still.

"Ah!" said Moody spinning to point Harry's arm out to Dumbledore after seeing a tattoo, "huh?" he finished, realising what he saw, wasn't what he was looking for. He spun back around to look more closely at the teen and his tattoo.

"I hear they're all the rage in London" Harry said meekly, his face a mask of innocence.

"You're sick" Moody spat disgustedly throwing his arm back at him. Harry took a moment to look fondly down at his marked arm, where a replica of the dark mark lay, except instead of a skull, the snake wrapped itself around a red heart, across the centre of which read 'MUM'.

"Yeah bro – I'm fully sick man!" Harry replied lazily, holding in a laugh at Moody's looks of outrage.

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**Umm I'm not sure that fully sick has crossed the continents... but I couldn't resist, and seeing as it's nearly Australia day anyway, you can all just suffer bad pop culture references now can't you? **

**I should be in bed... so just refer to this space from all the other posts to assist you in feeling your moral obligation to review.**

**mmmm - moral obligation... reviews... nom nom nom :)**

**Katty xx **

**PS: the o o c get it! get it! drowning in the o o C bahahahahaha... me so clever me shut up now... me on lame joke roll... white or wholemeal bahahahaha... seriously, I will stop the torture now :D**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: *SNORES* it's 6am, and I'm posting - God save us all, I'm going to bed now, please review I hearts this chappie = Snape pwns Dumbledore hehehe... oh and its also crude, rude and vulgar as my mother would say... anyways - enjoy!**

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"Alastor" Dumbledore cautioned the man, laying a placating hand on his shoulder to draw him back, stepping forwards himself to engage Harry in conversation.

"That was a very interesting display you put on this morning Harry" he stated chattily.

"Oh yes" replied Harry, his face an emotionless deadpan of sarcasm – the kind that masked when his 'annoyingoldmanometre' was about to blow, "interesting is what I aim for… I was a bit worried I hadn't pulled it off though, y-ya know?" he stuttered, purposely earnest, "Especially after that third somersault, the one where I nearly rolled into an AK and DIED – yeah that really screwed up my choreography I thought – But it's good to know it was INTERESTING, I couldn't tell personally because I was too busy trying not to get KILLED!" he bit out, trying to keep control of himself, the more he lost it, the more he resorted to the sarcasm, "I'll have to get you to tape all my really _interesting _altercations, because I sure know I can rely on you as the only other wizard present capable of fighting Voldemort without being killed, that you will hold a camera very fucking still, better then any bloody tripod – no matter what happens you don't move an inch! Cos you sure as hell don't seem to be worried about interfering to help the underdog, you know maybe you should look into a career in journalism! That'd get your wa-"

"Obviously you're angry with me" Dumbledore said sadly, his face awash with self-disappointment and remorse – Harry's 'annoyingoldmanometre' hit the roof.

"Oh – _the fuck_?! However did you pick that from my sweet disposition?!!" He all but screamed at the man, feigning surprise.

"Truly my boy, I am very sorry-" he started replying.

"AH – AH – AH!" Harry cut in, reprimanding him like a naughty puppy, "Don't even start with me. I love you, at least whatever you it was I know, really I did, in fact I do – I have fond memories of you as my one, most omnipresent, caring mentor… but if you so much as twinkle a baby blue at me manipulatively I am going to rip them out of your head and use them to crush your vocal chords" he smiled sweetly up at the old man, "kk? You have to understand, I just can't run the risk of turning back into a stupid little schoolboy. It'd be very embarrassing, I'd much rather kill you first" he finished condescendingly. There was a long pause while Dumbledore assessed him with his gaze.

"Think very carefully before you push me child" he said slowly, in a tone somewhere between threatening and quizzing. Harry laughed out loud at the first time a steely eyed headmaster had ever projected his dangerousness at him.

"Clearly you _are _very sorry you left me to die… Just like I'm very sorry I farted right now – I quite enjoyed the farting itself, but if I had of known it was going to stink, when I was the only possible candidate to get the blame for it… well I probably wouldn't have done it" he concluded, smirking meaningfully at the old headmaster.

"Would you like something to settle your stomach dear?" asked Madam Pomfrey, coughing slightly in her close proximity to him.

"No thankyou" he started politely, "Not much you can do about a turtle head, it's going to be one heck of an after-grog-bog though" he concluded crudely to utter silence from all present in the room. Dumbledore was trying to stay stoic, but Harry knew he was being wafted, and was amusedly confident in his methane's ability to gag a maggot.

"I need to speak with Snape" He told Dumbledore, "he knows something… _unbelievably enough_" he ended mockingly. The headmaster seemed to take a few moments to decide what card he wanted to play, looking into Harry's nonchalantly determined face he figured his best way to keep control of the situation was to treat the boy as a friend – no matter how frustrating he could be.

"Of course, I'll just fire-call him for you now" he replied happily, Making his way over to the hospital's smouldering fireplace. He threw in some of the coloured dust from an ornate jar atop the mantle and poked his head into the green flames, calling out for Severus. His eyes landed on the dark haired Professor, sitting on a well worn sofa in more then a little need of repair. He was holding a plain white mug, just a little yellowed around the edges, of what was assumabley tea between his hands and staring at his feet on the scuffed oak coffee table, as if contemplating the meaning of socks.

At Dumbledore's arrival before his (mostly) sock covered toes Snape looked up immediately. He wouldn't lesser himself by bothering to utter the man any sort of greeting – not on a weekend, no way. So he just sat there, glaring at the man over his toes in acknowledgement, daring him to comment.

"Ah Severus, just the man I was looking for!" Dumbledore crowed cheerfully.

"Obviously" Snape answered in a sarcastic deadpan that was disturbingly similar to the frustrating teen's.

"Are you busy?" He continued in the same cheerful manner, undeterred by his dour reception.

"No" Snape replied in the same tone, pausing to first give him a contemptuous glare that clearly saved him saying 'obviously' again.

"Excellent! Would you step through to the hospital wing then – Harry requests an audience with you" Dumbledore asked matter-of-factly.

"No" was Snape's simple reply.

"What was that sorry?" the headmaster asked superciliously.

"No" Snape repeated, his tone unchanged and infuriating.

"My boy, I must insist that you would" stated Dumbledore forcefully, looking disdainfully at the professor before him.

"Is he a student?" Snape drawled plainly.

"No, you know he is not" came the headmaster's slightly terse reply.

"Is he threatening students?" Snape continued to drawl disinterestedly.

"No" said Dumbledore, more tersely.

"Is he threatening teachers" Snape went on the same.

"No" Dumbledore all but spat.

"Is he threatening-"

"He isn't threatening anyone!" Dumbledore finally snapped, cutting off his bored drawl.

"Then you cannot insist." Snape persevered calmly, as if the famously docile headmaster hadn't just practically yelled at him, "You cannot insist I do anything with the boy, because by your own admission there are no extenuating circumstances caused by said boy which, given my contracted teaching agreement, would rule any duty of care for him on my part, especially on a day when I am not technically on duty as a staff member."

"I'm not asking Severus, I'm telling and as headmaster of this school", he said pompously, "you would do well to respect that if you intend to keep your job."

"If you wish to make amendments to my teaching contract, you will need to contact Angela, my representative at the Wizarding Teachers Union. As it stands you legally cannot fire me without three prior warnings that have been independently tested by an unbiased source as to their warrant and authenticity in relation to their claim that I have breached my contract." Was Snape's long-winded and articulate reply.

"I don't recall us ever making any contract" Dumbledore stated defensively, _I bet Voldemort doesn't have to put up with this crap_ he thought mutinously.

"No, of course you wouldn't. You were too busy trying to comfort and cotton wrap your precious Gryffindors to pay any attention to what your hopeless case of a traitorous professor was asking you" Snape spat scornfully, "and so when I came to you and asked you what my new teaching agreement would be all you said was 'try not to kill any of the students'. I had it witnessed, recorded and officiated. So you cannot fire me unless on three separate occasions, I fail to 'try not to' kill a student." Snape concluded smirking across at a clearly frustrated headmaster.

"If this is about money Severus, I _could _give you a raise" Dumbledore said kindly, changing tact fast. Snape snorted derisively.

"There isn't enough gold in Gringrott's to compel me to speak to that arrogant little devil's spawn." He replied snidely.

"As I recollect Severus" Dumbledore stated darkly, returning to his disgruntled manner, "there was a time when you would have wished that 'devil's spawn' your own, had the lovely Miss Evans not found you inadequate…" he trailed off nastily.

"Yes, it is always remarkable the things senility allows you to remember and forces you to forget" Snape spoke cheerily, "It must be a terrific relief on your memory now to have living breathing proof that the spawn of two arrogant dunderheads has produced a truly evil little beast – you must feel so proud for them." He spoke condescendingly.

"Really Severus, must we fight?" Dumbledore said pleadingly, again changing tact, "We used to be such good friends!"

"Of course not, by all means you are free to leave" was Snape's sarcastically near earnest reply. Dumbledore sighed heavily and fixed the professor with a harsh glare for some time – Snape met it calm and unwavering.

"This will not be the last of this Severus" he finally stated forebodingly.

"Of course not" replied Snape nonchalantly bored, "As always I shall live in fear of the geriatric who roams the hallways in search of a chamber pot that resides under his bed – may he never find the dungeons in the dark. Amen." Snape concluded, throwing the dregs of his tea into the fire, over the face of a furiously spluttering headmaster. He departed the room for his office where he could perhaps get some marking done in peace – ignoring all the way the vulgar cursing of the supposedly saintly Dumbledore… really, if people only knew… but no one ever believed him anyway, so he dismissed the dream as irrelevant and concentrated on dreams he could achieve – like making Black into a dagwood dog.

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**AN: **

**umm yes, I have nothing witty to say - feel free to proceed to poorly thought out review rant like sentence.**

**Call me superstitious... but I had a bad feeling about last chapter, then I threw up everywhere, must have been something I ate, cos ppl liked last chapter, you should all thank them for their reviews - which brought you this chapter :)**

**I think I might be rambling, so yeah nitey night!**

**Katty xx **


	15. Chapter 15

**Have been busy lately writing ranting anti-cull letters (flying-foxes this time :P)... I'm on holidays if anyone was wondering why the sudden pickup in updates.**

**In answer to Sylkie's rather good question, of Snape's carefree behaviour last chapter. I have decided upon 2 reasons for this:**

**- Double jeopardy lol... to a logical extent at the very least (ie Dumbledore can't say he lied to protect Snape without getting himself in trouble... not that he did lie... but obviously he doesn't know he didn't :S? As always I make perfect sense at these godforsaken hours of the morning.**

**- Second reason: Voldemort has grown to considerable power in this fic, there would be no point in sending Snape to prison... He'd only lose a good teacher, which Snape is - though he doesn't feel the need to pander to a man that betrayed him.**

**yep ahuh, them's my reasons and I'm sticking to 'em! As for this chapter... I don't know why I pick on Moody, he's just fun :)**

**Enjoy**

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When Dumbledore pulled his head back through the fireplace, and composedly unfolded himself to look benevolently upon the throng of his adoring minions, Harry fought briefly, and lost spectacularly, the battle to hold in a snort. There were tea leaves strewn all throughout Dumbledore's beard – no amount of false composure could hide that.

"Well" said Harry cheerfully, "That looks like a no."

"Professor Snape insists you become a pupil of the school if you are to access his wise counsel" Dumbledore replied slowly, a smile growing across his face as he spoke. It seemed he was very pleased, if not pleasantly surprised with what his own mouth was coming up with.

"No man, not even Snape, would hate himself enough to ask for something like that" Harry replied, matter-of-factly dismissive. Turning he saw Professor McGonagall fiercely nodding her agreement that by no means could the headmaster mistranslate Snape into asking for the brat to stay more permanently. Harry proceeded to get up from the hospital bed, zealously bowing to Madam Pomfrey and flashing his most charming smile at her in thanks, he attempted to jauntily stride from the room.

Several strides down the corridor outside the hospital wing Harry realised Dumbledore's mob was following him doggedly. He stopped and turned on his heel to face them. They all stopped abruptly, except for the headmaster, who happened to be snail-racing up the side of them to come and stand in front of them, in front of Harry.

For his part, Harry simply huffed a little and turned back around, to continue on his way. He couldn't resist however, taking five strides then jumping back to face them and yelling,

"BOO" he was forced to duck as a stunner from an overly twitchy Moody flew at his skull. Everybody else froze at the exclamation. "Na ha!" laughed Harry mockingly, "You moved, you're out!" he finished in the sing-song voice of a petulant child, the proceeding apoplexy causing Moody's twirling eyeball to pop right out of its socket and bounce across the floor, where-upon a particularly vigorous bounce it landed deftly in Harry's outstretched palm. He eyed the eye mischievously for a second, a positively evil smirk overcoming his face.

Rubbing the whizzing ball enthusiastically beside his crotch like a professional cricket bowler, Harry looked meaningfully off into the distance of the hallway, then pointedly glanced at McGonagall and some weedy-looking unknown guy, motioning secretively to the two people flanking the small group.

"High ball, go wide" he whispered loudly to them.

"You wouldn't dare" Moody growled at him so low it was practically mouthed. Dumbledore, not bothering to make a move to stop the teen, obviously believed he wasn't that stupid too. Oh but he was!

With an attempt at sporting style he did not posses, Harry over-armed the ball/eye. Effectively he hurled it forcefully at the floor a couple of feet in front of himself. It continued straight into the ceiling without loosing much kinetic energy, from there it progressed into the forehead of a stunned Dumbledore, the cushiony effects of human soft tissue slowing its pace to some extent. It did not come to a complete stop however, until it was halfway down the throat of the commonly unfortunate Harry Potter, who happened to have been laughing raucously with his mouth open and not paying enough attention to the situation at hand.

He looked up a little stunned, his laughing cut off quite out of the blue, only to be able to briefly marvel at Moody's incredible leap, and subsequent, supposedly superb, aerodynamics. Then the partially-kindling body collected with his own and they went sprawling on the ground with Moody trying ferociously to either save his magical eye, or strangle Harry to death… Truth be told he didn't seem fussed as to which of those was successful first. Not that anyone else seemed particularly fussed either way themselves, that was of course until Harry magaged to get out over his choking and all the yelling,

"Quick somebody help! A madman's abusing a student!"

"What was that my boy?" asked Dumbledore hopefully stepping forwards.

"Nothing" McGonagall quickly cut over the situation, shoving Moody off Harry and deftly picking up the teen, who gave one large, uncomfortable swallow and then smirked happily at the enraged Moody. With the very necessary wand intercepting the two, she finished promptly, "the poor boy is simply delusional due to lack of oxygen. He said nothing sane and should simply go back to his home to rest and recover."

"Oh I don't know about that" Harry began, innocently suggestive, "I like to keep all my future prospects open."

"Right!" Spat McGonagall tersely, "So do I" she concluded, releasing him and stepping out of Moody's murderous way (one way or another, she would have a hand in keeping him out of the teaching enrolment).

Harry began giggling insanely as he dodged another leap of the auror's and ignoring Dumbledore's placating calls, began to lead the man in a stumpy chase around the ring of bystanders.

"Ehehehehe! Ehehehehe! Ehehehehe!" Harry laughed continuously during his wild chase. Finally after his third circle of the group, when Moody's expletives were beginning to get repetitive… which was a difficult thing to achieve in itself, Harry branched off from the circle and zigzagged his way down the corridor instead, back on his path to his original destination – minus the mob who had remained to comfort Moody.

The aforementioned auror was just about purple in the face, panting and screaming, while hexing (and missing) the boy, "I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

"I'm gonna kill him" he whispered determinedly to McGonagall. She nodded, kindly supportive.

"I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" he yelled to Dumbledore in enraged confirmation. The headmaster grimaced, hoping to avoid confrontation.

"I'M GONNA BLOODY KILL HIM" he screamed once more to the entire world at large, just to reiterate. They did nothing.

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**I had a note here... fanficdotnet didn't save it... neither did my brain... hmmmmmm**

**Something like: blah blah, sorry for the short update, blah, need to udate my other story next blah, have niggling desire to write Naruto/HP spoof but won't, blah blah **

**Thank's for reviewing (see I remembered the important bit muhahaha!) blah blah blah, BLAH... blah blah.**

**Katty xx**


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